The Other Child
by Fensta
Summary: Penned Pre-DH. Harry finds a way to change the way the prophecy played out and goes back to make sure that, this time, there's something at the end of the war worth living for. But with only vague memories as a guide and Nev as the BWL, what can Harry do?
1. The Final Battle

_**As of the 27th of October 2008:** This story has been completely re-edited and updated to make it slightly more compliant with the world of Harry Potter. If you are a returning reader, can I suggest you re-read the first three chapters -the third chapter now has over 2,000 more words than it used to- before reading the new chapter. You won't regret it, I can promise you._

_If you are a new reader to these parts. I hope you enjoy the show._

* * *

_**Summary:** Harry finds a way to change the way the prophecy played out, and goes back to make sure that, this time, there's something at the end of the war worth living for. But with parents telling him what to do this time, will it be all that easy?_

_Welcome to:_

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Other Child.**_

Clouds of smoke and ash rolled across the Alley as the young man stalked down it. Years had passed since he'd last been here – the great Diagon Alley massacre of Harry Potter's 7th year- and yet small fires still burnt among the ruined shop fronts.

Harry's eyes couldn't help but glance at the one vivid orange sign that still hung in the window of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, the last resting place of one George Weasley. Fred had followed soon after, grief at his brother's death driving him on quite a few successful suicide missions into the Death Eater infested Albanian forests. Eventually he never came back…

Gripping his wands tighter, Harry continued further down into the Alley, his movement's fluid and practised from years of endless war. His dual wand fighting style a relic from being tutored by Albaforth Dumbledore. The old man's unique style had rubbed off on Harry, but it hadn't spared his life when, last year, Draco Malfoy had led a large force on Albaforth's Hogsmede homestead.

Albaforth had managed to take quite a few of the minions down, but Draco's underhand ways had allowed him to get a clear shot of the old man's exposed back. Harry's retaliation on Draco had put even his attack on Lucius to shame, and at the time, Hermione had estimated that parts of Malfoy senior could be found in 4 different counties.

It had taken him 6 years from that day, and cost him the lives of everyone he held dear, but he had finally tracked down and killed every one of Tom's higher-ranking Death Eaters. With no one to lead them, Riddle's forces were disintegrating around him; even the Dementors had started to turn on the self-imposed Lord.

Harry had just come into some intelligence from one of the few people he trusted, and it could possibly mean that the entire war could come to an end tonight, right here and now. He was in search of the very last of the true Death Eaters, Voldemort himself.

Apparently, with the loss of Greyback and the siblings Amycus and Alecto in the past month, Voldemort had finally decided to let himself be shown at the place where the War had officially started.

No doubt it would involve an ambush…

Not that it would bother Harry. He'd endured and survived so many ambushes over the years, he could literally smell when one was about to happen. He'd also developed the ability to 'sense' other wizard's auras, giving him the distinct advantage in those types of encounters.

Stopping dead and clearing his thoughts for a second, Harry spread out his mind for any other living thing, and couldn't help but smile as he felt the presence of maybe five or six distinct auras hiding just round the next corner. Further on down the alley, clearly staying out the way of the ambush, it was hard to miss the pulsating evil aura that could only be Voldemort.

This was going to be fun!

Coming out of his trance, and with a good mental picture as to where every one of his would-be attackers were, Harry calmly walked round the corner and right into the middle of the ambush. He could literally smell the relief that came off every one of them as they thought they had him.

How wrong they were.

The first shot came from Harry's right, a stunner that wasn't going to connect with Harry in a month of Sundays. Harry had time to wonder where Riddle was getting these followers from before he rolled out the way of a second shot and sent a rather nasty flesh-eating curse that was a favourite of Death Eaters back at him. Although Harry couldn't see the man, his cries of anguish were easy enough to hear to know he'd struck gold.

Then all hell broke loose…

Five voices, all from different directions, yelled a number of different hexes and curses that almost caught Harry of guard. So used to Death Eaters with immaculate aim, that he almost dived into a few of the shots that were off target anyway. Instead, he opted for a rather ungraceful forward flip that landed him on his back. He shot two blasting hexes from this position in two different directions, his duel-wand style paying off once again. The spells landed squarely on the chests of two of his attackers, sending them flying back into the ruined buildings on either side.

Rolling away from a shaft of ice that had erupted from where his back had just been, Harry flipped himself back to a standing position.

"_Incendio!"_ he cried, and dual steams of fire erupted from his wands, enveloping two unfortunate Death Eaters in coats of flame. They ran around screaming for a few seconds, but they both fell to the floor soon enough, silent and very dead.

Harry rounded on the last remaining Death Eater. Up until now, Harry hadn't even taken a look to see what his attackers looked like. He didn't like to look into their faces and see people he recognised fighting him, as had happened too often in the latter years of the war. So it was with a heavy heart that Harry looked up to find a young man that he'd once seen wearing a Ravenclaw robe.

"Liam?" he said with disbelief. Liam Harp, a third year during Harry's seventh, had single-handedly protected almost half of the school's first and second years from a group of Death Eaters during Voldemort's attack of Hogwarts 4 years ago. To see him now standing on the other side of the fence was heartbreaking.

"I…I'm s-so s-sorry…" the 19 year old boy sobbed as he pointed his wand at Harry, "_Avada Kedavra…_"

Harry didn't even move as the sickly green beam of light missed him by miles. "I'm sorry too," he whispered as he lifted his wand to aim at the boy.

"_Stupefy."_

The red light hit Liam in the chest, and he fell to the floor with a crumple. Hopefully Harry could revive and talk to him later, once he'd dealt with the big cheese…

Talking of foul smells…

Harry spun on the spot, the vial smell of rotten flesh bringing to his attention the approach of Tom Riddle.

"Merlin! No wonder why you weren't part of the ambush Tom! I would have smelt you a mile off!" Harry quipped.

Riddle's red eyes glowed with anger. The duo had only met a couple of times in the past few years, but it always seemed that Harry ended up on top, something that didn't sit well with the self-styled Dark Lord.

Since the destruction of his horcruxes, the aging wizard had started to slowly decompose in his own body. The one seventh of his soul now down to one sixteenth since he had attempted to re-forge horcruxes as Harry and his followers destroyed them. Apparently one sixteenth was the limit, or maybe Tom was afraid that his body would literally disintegrate if he split his soul any further. The ancient Dark Lord Anubis only knew. The smell couldn't get much worse in any case…

"Then again…" Harry continued, "maybe you should have, the fumes are making me light-headed!"

This was as much taunting as the old man could take.

"_Impedimentia!"_ Tom roared, and Harry had to dive to the side to avoid being blasted back down the Alley.

"_Bona Nox!" "Spyd av ls!"_ Harry yelled in rapid succession, one for each wand. The black jet of shadow arced its way towards Tom, while a brilliant spear of ice flew straight at him.

Voldemort managed to deflect the Blinding hex with a swish of his wand, but as the shaft of ice hit his shield, it split into hundreds of thousands of shards that went straight through the hastily crafted barrier. Tom stumbled back, roaring in pain.

"Insolent fool!" he yelled, his eyes flashing angrily, "Mark my words boy! You will not win this fight!"

Harry found it very hard not to laugh. "Tom, its been years since you actually gave me a good fight." He made a very theatrical look around the alley, "and this time, there's nobody to help you out when you feel like leaving!"

"Why you…" Voldemort raged, "_Byakko!"_

Harry's eyebrows rose slightly as he dodged the latest curse. Tom wasn't fooling around, that curse severed the all the victim's limbs from their body… including the head…

This was the start of the final battle, the battle that would settle the outcome of the war, the battle that would decide the fate of the UK. What was left of it anyway…

And so, the two greatest wizards of the day started throwing curses at each other in earnest. Blasts of blood red, sickly green, deep purple, along with the faint blue and pink glows of shields as they were struck.

Within minutes it was clear who would come out victorious. Riddle was starting to slow up and make mistakes, his reflexes and endurance not being what they once were.

"_Reducto! Pituitae Adsulto! Diffindo!" _Harry yelled just as his adversary deflected his last three or four spells wildly. The first was parried away neatly, but Voldemort's eyes flashed with sudden recognition at the second hex. This momentary distraction was enough for the cutting curse to slip through his defences, striking Riddle on the shoulder. The snake-man screamed as his black blood splattered across the old apothecary store front behind him.

"What's wrong Tom?" Harry yelled, taking the time for a breather, "the old bogey bat hex bringing up bad memories?"

Ginny's favourite curse had indeed been one of the few curses to ever hit the Dark Lord, by Ginny in fact. It had been three years ago now, but Ginny had been at the burrow with her mother when Tom had attacked. After tricking Molly through the floo, Ginny sealed it up and went outside to face her old adversary.

It was reported by captured Death Eaters later that she put up a good fight, her Bogey Bat hex was used to great effect to distract Riddle as she destroyed the two horcruxes that the Dark Lord had started to keep on him at all times. If it weren't for the fact that the prophecy clearly stated that Harry had to be the one to kill Voldemort, Harry would have bet that she would have done the deed for him.

They found her two days later, battered and bruised, lying under the remains of the burrow. Further examinations had found her to be 3 months pregnant, something that Harry wished he'd known while she was alive.

Harry's payback on Tom was by totally decimating his garrison at Hogwarts in a fit of rage, including Bellatrix and Roldolphus Lestrange. Not that it made up for the pain that he felt at the loss of his fiancée.

"Just remembering how your lover died…" Voldemort replied calmly, "it was such a _big_ building…"

Harry snapped, "_Karsado!" _Fast moving orange beams flew out of both wands, the spells so powerful, Voldemort's shield died instantly. The beams hit Tom on the chest and hip, the muscle-destroying spell burning him from the inside out.

Voldemort fell to the floor in a crumple and a scream. Harry stalked forward, both wands trained on the man's heart.

"NEVER speak of her before me!" he roared. For an instant, Harry was sure he saw a flicker of fear in the old wizard's eyes, but it was as fleeting as any remorse that might have been in his heart.

"I've fought for years and lost all those dear to me to get to this point, I will not have you desecrate it by bringing up the evils you've committed!"

"Who says you've beaten me? I've still got my wand boy…" Voldemort panted, pointing his wand at Harry.

"Give it up Tom," Harry said more calmly than he thought possible under the circumstances, "What have you got to live for now? You've practically destroyed Europe in your quest for supremacy, and your forces are all but gone." He gestured at Riddle's beaten and still rotting body, "Even your body is dying, the only reason you're not dead right now is the power of the prophecy stating one of us has to kill the other before we die of natural causes."

Voldemort had the decency to laugh. "What about you then boy? Your home country is a blackened ruin, all your friends are dead, as are your love and unborn child, and even if you kill me, there's a likelihood that someone else will take my place.

"The only difference between us, is that I will die knowing you suffered, and that even if you kill me, your life still wouldn't be worth living. Whereas, you would die knowing one thing... that you'd failed all those who'd believed in you."

He coughed out a laugh, black phlegm dribbling down his chin. "As far as I can see, it's a win-win situation for me." Tom smiled a grim sort of grin, knowing it would infuriate the man before him.

Harry stood frowning at Voldemort's words, hardly believing he was even listening to the twisted figure of a man at his feet. A year ago, maybe he wouldn't have been right. Ron at least would have been alive, as well as a few other friends. Fleur and Bill had only been tracked down a couple of months ago, and he'd lost contact with Remus only last week…

But, as things stood right now, as amazing as it was, Tom Riddle was telling the truth. The only think keeping Harry going since Ginny's death was the drive to kill Voldemort.

To get revenge.

That was three years ago, and although revenge was still at the top of Harry's 'things to do' list, he knew that now it would be a hollow victory…

What was he thinking about?! All his friends had died to get him this far, including Ginny. She'd given her life to get rid of two of the last horcruxes ever constructed, and he couldn't live with the thought that she'd given all that up just for him to fail at the last gate.

His stance hardened, and he locked eyes with Riddle. Something must have shown in his face, because Tom fired out a panicked spell.

"_Scipionis Cinifactum!_"

Harry hardly had time to register the fact that he'd been hit by something when he had to drop his Holly and Phoenix-feather wand as it turned to ashes in his hand.

Immediately, Harry rolled to the side, avoiding the killing curse that followed the wand-destroying spell, and fired the last spell Tom Marvolo Riddle ever saw.

"_Inflamere Pravi!"_ A wave of fire burst out from the end of his second wand, Ginny's old wand, enveloping the old wizard. At this range, it only took seconds to turn the last of the Riddle line into a pile of ashes comparable to the wand that used to be in Harry's right hand.

All of a sudden, Harry felt the connection break, and was physically thrown back as the last of Voldemort's crumbling body exploded in a shower of embers.

And that was it…

It was all over…

What he'd been working towards for his entire life…

All 23 years of it…

It was all over…

......

...

A cough brought him out of his thoughts, and Harry spun on the spot, pointing his remaining wand at the guilty party. Liam.

Shit.

The boy was still on the floor, although apparently he was quickly coming out of his stunned state. Harry did the only thing that was sensible to do.

"_Accio wand."_ He said softly, making the boy's wand fly across the alley and into Harry's hand. Liam must have heard him, because he made a desperate grab for it that missed completely.

"No… _Please_… I didn't have a choice! You don't understand!" he started. Harry couldn't help but scrunch his nose up at the way the boy was cowering at his feet, as if Harry were going to punish him like Voldemort would have.

"Its over… Your master's dead… now get out of here…" He knew his voice was dead and lifeless, but it didn't seem important at this point. "And if you want to live without looking at everyone you betrayed, don't come back."

The boy glanced up at Harry's face and flinched. The once kind and jovial face that he'd know at Hogwarts had been changed over the years of war. Now it was as grave and dangerous as Liam's former master. A transformation that could only come about with grievous loss on both an emotional and a physical level. Liam suddenly felt even more driven to help this man, despite his fear.

"I-I know a s-spell that could help you…" he spluttered quickly, "t-time magic that could take you b-back to the start of all this."

Harry blinked… he was sure that the boy in front of him had just offered him help in a voice that was so different in tone to his pleading wine, that it almost sounded like a different person.

"I'm sorry?" he said, looking down at the boy uncertainly.

"I worked for a research company that the Dark Lord owned, I just didn't know it until it was too late…" he seemed to look up at Harry for acceptance before continuing, "we were researching into a way of reversing time, especially concerning prophecies."

Suddenly, Harry was very interested in what the boy had to say. Despite this, he kept his stoic mask up, indicating the boy should continue by the absence of any reply.

"We found it was p-possible to use the natural power of a prophecy to guide a soul back through time to near when the prophecy was first acted upon."

"You know more about the situation than your making out…" Harry said, it wasn't a question.

"The Dark Lord kept insisting we look into prophecies, we assumed it probably somehow involved you."

"Assuming you're correct," Harry said with a threatening growl, "how could your research possibly help me now?"

"We managed to formulate a spell that would literally take a person's soul back through time. Once it got there, we..." he paused, swallowing nervously before continuing, "...we don't know exactly what would happen, b-but in theory; the soul would merge with the soul of themselves in that time."

Harry stopped to think about this for a few seconds. "So that means you don't know what would happen at all." Harry summed up.

"If, and this is only theoretically mind you, _if_ I were to send my soul back, I might not have any of my memories, I probably wouldn't have my mind as it is now. In all likelihood, time would probably play out exactly the same."

Liam smiled nervously, "I see that Granger girl rubbed off on you…" his smile vanished when Harry eyes flashed, and the wand in his right hand suddenly emitted a few very red sparks, "R-right, well… y-yes, we thought of that too. So we experimented with adding an charm that wouldn't allow the time-line to recreate itself. In effect, it would force the prophecy to take a different route to fulfilment."

"Of course, you couldn't test this theory of yours…" Harry started, but Liam cut him off.

"N-No, not at all. Our tests were very successful. Especially with prophecies that were very open to interpretation."

Harry growled and rubbed his temple before realising he'd started to pace. It was something he's picked up from Hermione during the first few years of the war. But she was gone now, as was her husband and Harry's best friend. Harry sighed. _Ron_: the last of the Weasleys to survive. It had only been last week…

What choice did he have? Tom had been right, there was nothing for him here. The Weasleys were gone, the remnants of the DA and Hogwarts too scattered to reform even if he wanted to. The Muggles had found out about the magical world, and were actively exterminating anyone that they considered a 'danger to the general population'. Unfortunately, this generally meant anyone who carried a wand.

The ministry was destroyed, and had been for over 2 years now, and in an case, the wizarding population was so small these days that a small town like Ottery St Catchpole would have housed all of them quite comfortably. Moving to the continent was an option, Fleur's family would take him in, but it wouldn't be the same. Nothing would ever be the same again...

Not without his allies, his comrades, his friends...

His loved ones...

Gin...

"I'll do it." Harry said suddenly. "How?"

Liam gave a weak smile. "It's a surprisingly simple spell, but takes a great deal of determination on the caster's part for it to happen."

"Trust me, I have all the drive that I would and could ever want." Harry replied with a grim smirk. "What's the incantation?"

Liam swallowed and closed his eyes, as if trying to recall a long lost memory.

"_Sors Sortis Retexo…"_

* * *

_**Approximately 23 years previously:**_

"But master! I must insist you reconsider…"

"Do not talk to me in such manner Wormtail, unless you want me to permanently turn you into the rat you are!"

The dark bundle of robes shrank back on the cold stone floor, as if struck. A silence fell over the chamber, causing the man to shiver in anticipation of punishment.

"Unfortunately, I agree with him my Lord…"

A masked figure within the circle that surrounded the quivering man and the one named Lord Voldemort stepped forward.

"Oh really Severus?" the Dark Lord turned his head towards his most trusted follower.

"Yes, my Lord. The Potter child may be powerful, seeing as, as much as I hate to admit it, both of his parents are reasonably powerful." He paused, licking his lips. "But, the Longbottoms are by far the superior Aurors, so I have to agree with Peter on the fact that _their_ son would be the more dangerous adversary in the future."

The Dark Lord looked thoughtful for a small while. Had any neutral party been present, they would have been spooked by the unnaturally complete silence that fell across the room that was full of people. Before long, Voldemort spoke again.

"I was inclined to believe that Wormtail here was simply trying to save his _dear_ friend James Potter in an act of twisted loyalty," He turned his gaze from the quivering man in front of him to the masked man to his right, "Very well. I trust you, Severus, to make decisions that will benefit me. The Longbottoms it is."

Voldemort gave a gruesome smile, "Now, out! Get out the lot of you!" he rubbed his hands together with glee. "I have preparations to make…"

The circle dissolved and the figures made their way out the one door to the stone-walled room, no one seemed to notice one of the masked men picking up Wormtail by the robes and leading him out the room. Nor the fact that he let him into a room a few corridors away, shutting the door as they entered.

"Tell James we're even!"


	2. The Potter Boys

_**Diagon Alley: approx 11 years later**_

"Harry! Keep up! You don't want to get lost!" James Potter said as he took hold of his son's hand, "You _do_ remember what happened last time don't you?" He ran his hand through his hair in an agitated manner, "It was just lucky for us that Hagrid was down Knockturn Alley looking for Acromantula anti-venom."

Harry sniggered at his side. "Lucky for you, you mean. Mum would have killed you if you'd lost me…" that earned him a clip round the ear.

"That's enough cheek from you!" James said in as much of an authoritative tone as he could, but he'd always found it hard to scold his adorable 11-year-old son. That was his mother's job.

The pair continued to contest to see who was the cheekier all the way into 'Ollivanders: _Makers of Fine Wands since 328BC_'. Seeing as Harry had received his Hogwarts letter this morning, James had decided that to celebrate, he and Harry would go into Diagon Alley to get the boy his first wand.

"Now remember," James whispered as they entered quiet of the dusty old shop, "Mr Ollivander is a little… odd, at times, but hold nothing back and he'll be able to give you the wand that fits you best."

His son looked at him incredulously, "Is he going to ask me questions?"

"No no…" James ran his hand through his hair once more, "it's more… well… Oh you'll see!" And with that, he left his son standing in the doorway while he tried to find the wizened owner of the shop.

Harry, meanwhile, was puzzled. Not by his father's words, he was sure all would explain itself in due time, it always did with his Dad. No, it was more the feeling of familiarity with the shop that was baffling him, because, of course, he'd never set foot in the famous wand-shop before. It was only for adults and older kids who needed wands. And his mum always told him that it was dangerous for kids to play in the shop, what with all the highly charged magical items and whatnot…

But, there was something else too… a sorrow, a deep, saddening feeling every time he looked in the corner with the stool.

Before he could investigate further, the illustrious Mr Ollivander appeared in front of him, or rather, his father picked him up and deposited him on the counter that the old man was standing behind.

"Ahh yes, young mister Potter!" he said gleefully, "I've been anticipating your arrival in my shop! Right-handed I suppose," he suddenly stooped a little to look into Harry's eyes. "Such eyes… only on your mother have I seen such fascinating eyes…" he seemed to stare into them for much too long for Harry's liking before abruptly closing his eyes and turning to pick up a tape measure that, for lack of a better term, attacked Harry as it started to measure every conceivable part of his body.

Despite his difficulties with the magical-measure, Harry could still have sworn he'd heard the man mutter something like '_curious, very curious… yes… perhaps…'_ as he moved into the maze of wand boxes that littered the back of the shop.

A few minutes later the man rushed back to the desk with just over half a dozen boxes stacked somewhat haphazardly in his arms, and dumped them next to Harry. He clicked his fingers and the tape measure fell limp, collapsing to the desktop with a clatter. Harry, too rapped up with the feeling of freedom that had just overcome him, didn't notice the man looking eagerly at him until he spoke.

"Well then! Try one!"

Having waited years since he'd first picked up his mother's wand and accidentally turned his baby sister green, Harry didn't need to be told twice. Eagerly grabbing the first box he found a majestically polished redwood wand. Picking it up, he reflexively twirled it in his fingers before waving it in the general direction of a hat-stand near the door. Apparently this wasn't the wand for him as the hat, probably Mr. Ollivander's, burst into flames.

Surprisingly, the old man didn't seem to mind about his smouldering headpiece, but instead seemed to get even more enthusiastic. He almost managed to knock Harry backwards off the desk (which he was still sitting on) in his attempt to give Harry a different wand.

This one, apparently containing a shard from a Unicorn horn, managed to chop the hat-stand clean in half, along with the coat that was hanging just below the hat. Harry was less surprised with Mr Ollivander's reaction (or lack thereof) to that particular calamity, seeing as the coat had already caught fire from the hat.

The wand selection seemed to carry on like that for quite a while until, after James had re-sewn the coat three times, repaired the hat-stand six times, and put out the hat a good twelve or so times, Harry eventually found a wand that shot out huge red and gold sparks. Unfortunately, the sparks set the hat on fire for the thirteenth (or was it fourteenth…) time that afternoon.

"I see you're going to be powerful like you're father." Mr Ollivander said with an almost sinister smile. "That wand you hold there is made of holly, containing a Dragon heartstring…" Ollivander proceeded to pluck the wand from Harry's fingers and hold it gently, as if it were made of some extremely brittle substance that would crumble under the smallest of pressures.

"11 inches, just like your father's, but a little more flexible, if anything making it slightly more adept to focussing large amounts of power. Perfect for duelling."

He turned and looked Harry in the eye once more. This time Harry was sure he could feel the starting of a pounding headache, and hastily broke eye contact after a few seconds. He didn't see it, but both Ollivander and his father were mildly surprised by this.

"Something wrong Harry?" James asked, concerned and yet intrigued by his son's unusual actions.

"It's nothing, just a headache." Harry missed the brief knowing look his father had with the wizened old man behind the desk.

"Right, well…" Ollivander said, seemingly torn between being flustered and excited about something, "that'll be seven Galleons please…"

Two minutes later, Harry's wand safely in it's case under James' arm, the pair made their way back out into the comparative blinding glare of the sunlight.

"Time for an ice cream!" James pronounced happily, and despite the voice in Harry's head (sounding surreptitiously like his mother's voice) that told him they'd never be back in time for supper at this rate, Harry couldn't help but agree with his father.

So, ten minutes later found Harry wolfing down a triple scoop of chocolate ice cream outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, trying not to notice the intense gaze that his father had set upon him. Feeling the almost familiar onset of a headache (although, that could have been the ice cream), Harry turned to face his Dad.

"Is there something wrong, Dad?" he asked, regretting making contact with his father's eyes, because it seemed to coincide with a particularly bad brain freeze. His Dad suddenly blinked and shook his head.

"N-no, not at all…" This didn't fool Harry for a second, as his father's hand went straight up to run through his hair, a tell-tale sign that he was thinking deeply about something, but Harry let it go. After all, his Dad had just bought him a wand - he was probably worrying about all that 'he's growing up so fast' stuff that parents seem to go though at least once a year, usually around birthdays.

Harry turned back to his ice-cream, being sure that this time he took his time to put smaller amounts on his spoon. It wasn't long before his dad seemed to recover back to his usual jovial self.

"So, I suggest we go on and get your school stuff while we're down here." He said casually, "no point in wasting a perfectly good shopping opportunity!" Harry looked up as his dad with raised eyebrows. It was a well-known fact that James Potter _hated_ shopping, especially for robes, so this suggestion was extremely… 'off'.

"Uhh," said Harry, not really knowing what to say to just a strange proposal from his father, "sure?"

James literally jumped up from the table, almost knocking over a little old witch who had been walking past. "Good! Books first I think!"

Despite the fact that Harry hadn't quite finished his ice-cream, James grabbed hold of his son's arm, pulled him off his seat and towards 'Flourish and Blotts', the bookstore down the Alley some way.

"Um… Dad?" Harry questioned as his dad pulled him through the crowd at potentially dangerous speeds.

"Yes son?" James yelled over his shoulder, not because of the speed, but he had to shout over the cries of a protesting young couple who had just been knocked to the ground by the speeding Auror.

"What's the rush?"

"Oh, nothing!" James continued to shout, even though there was now no reason to, "I'm just a little excited is all."

Seconds later, James stopped dead outside the shop, and quite suddenly too, causing Harry to crash quite spectacularly into the back of him and ricochet off into a family that was just leaving the store.

Having shut his eyes during his short flight, Harry didn't seem to realise that he was now lying on top of a young red-haired boy about his age, well, not until he spoke that is.

"Oww! Watch it!" said the voice that came from under Harry.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "Sorry!" Harry said quickly, rolling off the boy, who got up and glared at him. Harry looked, or rather _stared_ back at him from the floor. It was as if Harry knew him. At least, that's how Harry felt, although at the same time he was quite sure he'd never met _anyone_ with hair quite that shade of red before. Not even his mother's relatives. For some reason the name 'Roonil Wazlib' went though his mind…

"You should look where you're going!" the redhead said quite rudely while he brushed himself off. A girl's face suddenly appeared at his shoulder.

"Oh get off it, Ron. It wasn't his fault!" Harry's eyes snapped to the girl's face at the sound of her voice. It was one of the most intense and strange feelings Harry had ever experienced. It was as if everything in the world would be okay, and yet like the world was splitting in two. Mixed on top of this was the feeling of confusion that Harry was naturally feeling, yet despite that, and completely to his surprise, he found his eyes flicking very quickly to her stomach, as if searching for something. All the while, an intense feeling of protectiveness seemed to come over him like a wave.

If his father hadn't come over and picked him up by the armpits, it was quite possible that Harry could have been mesmerized by this girl for the rest of the day.

"You alright champ?" his father said, effectively drawing Harry out of his trance.

"Uhh… yeh, fine…" his eyes flicked back to the girl, who he noticed was now blushing. The boy, he noticed however, now looked downright furious, especially if his clenched fists (and strangely pink ears) were anything to go by.

Harry decided to take the diplomatic route and stuck out his hand, "Harry Potter," he said.

The boy hardly moved, not breaking his furious gaze that he seemed to have been holding for a good minute or too. Harry noticed that his ears were now almost the same colour as his hair. The thought that maybe the girl shouldn't stand so close to him, in case steam started coming out his ears, almost made him smile. Meanwhile, the girl was looking impatiently from the boy to Harry, and back again. Eventually, she seemed to lose patience with him.

"Ginny," she said, moving to shake Harry's hand. Harry couldn't help but feel as if he'd been shocked by electricity at her touch, not that he would ever admit to knowing what that felt like; what had Uncle Sirius been doing with that toaster anyway... "And this daft plonker is my brother, Ron."

She shot the boy an annoyed look. "Don't mind him, ever since George put a spider in his porridge this morning he's been in a really pissy mood."

"Ginevra Weasley!" a voice came from behind the pair of redheads, making both of them flinch. Harry was surprised at the fact that he knew the voice, and even had a picture of the face (and hair colour – although, perhaps that shouldn't have come as a shock) before she even appeared. "What have I told you about using language like that? Just because Fred and George use those types of words," the woman flicked a very cross glance over his shoulder at this point, "it doesn't mean that it's okay for you to copy them!"

The Ginny girl's head dropped fractionally, although the woman missed the mischievous grin that she gave Harry. He couldn't help but smile back, which seemed to turn her brother's ears redder.

"Molly!" Harry's dad suddenly said from behind him, "I didn't know you were coming into town today!" Harry, who was an expert 'James Potter watcher' (©Sirius Black Ltd.), could tell instantly that this was a lie, and that he knew not only that she was in town, but also that she would be in the bookstore at about this time.

"James, how nice to see you." She seemed to pick up on the fact he was lying too, and so added; "Arthur is at the back with Remus." It was almost alarming how quickly James managed to get through the crowded store after giving Mrs Weasley a nod in thanks. Mrs Weasley turned her attention to the Potter boy standing with her two youngest children.

"And this must be Harry, off to Hogwarts this year?" Harry smiled at her politely.

"Yes ma'am. We got the letter this morning, although dad hasn't stopped talking about Hogwarts since the start of the summer."

Mrs Weasley chuckled a little, "Yes, that does sound a lot like James. I suppose you've heard all about it from Sirius and Remus too." Harry couldn't help but smile at the mention of his godfather and uncle. "I see you've met Ron, he's starting Hogwarts this year too."

Harry looked back to the still-scowling carrot-top in front of him. His ears weren't quite as red, but Harry could still tell that talking to him was more than likely to make him worked up again, and so unthinking, turned to speak to Ginny instead.

"What about you then?" he immediately recognized his mistake as Ron's ears went back to the alarming colour of over-ripe tomatoes. Ginny didn't seem to notice in the slightest, or if she did, it didn't appear to bother her.

"Not till next year…" she said with a sigh. Harry, his emotions taking another leap in a direction he didn't understand, suddenly felt the need to comfort her.

"Aww, don't worry, my sister will be starting next year too." Ginny's head rose a little and she gave him a smile.

"Well, if she's anything like you, I'm sure I'll love her." Harry, despite feeling as if Christmas had come early, didn't miss the look her brother gave both of them.

"Oh," gushed Mrs Weasley, "is that little Eleanor?" Harry nodded, "Oh, I haven't seen her since she was a little baby!"

"You've met my sister?" Harry asked, his curious mind working overtime. Mrs Weasley looked like she'd been caught out for a second, before replying.

"Oh yes, at an Ord… I mean, a Ministry meeting, years and years ago. Ginny was just a baby then too."

"Oh yeh, Mr Weasley works in the 'Misuse of Muggle Artefacts' office…." Harry said softly under his breath without thinking. Unfortunately Ron heard it.

"How did you know that!" He said, rather calmly, but using his eyes in threat, probably due to his mother's proximity.

Harry was about to reply, when he realised that he didn't have a clue where that information came from, and so was left with his mouth hanging open in mid reply, before a polite cough from Ginny brought him back to his senses.

"Huh? Oh…uh, I think dad must have told me." he said, thinking quickly. However, it was a complete lie, his father never talked about the Ministry and work. Something about protecting them by keeping them ignorant, although his dad always put it much more diplomatically than that. Harry's mother might hex him otherwise…

Ron and his mother both seemed content with the answer, but Ginny's eyes lingered just a little too long on his for his liking. She looked away eventually when two identical heads appeared above each of her shoulders.

"Hey sis!" one said.

"Who's this hot-bod you're talking to then?" both heads smiled serenely (and quite alarmingly) at Harry. Ron's ears, meanwhile, were going back to their 'code red' state.

"Harry Potter…" Harry said, nodding at each of the heads, attempting to keep cool and smile back, but the identical smiles really were quite off-putting, "and how many brother's do you have!"

The twins evidently found this funny, laughing appropriately, but Ron found it less funny.

"There are three more of us, so don't even try it with Ginny." The twin's eyes bulged slightly at the statement, and they immediately swooped down over their brother, so their heads were now above his shoulders. Despite the awkward situation, Harry couldn't help but smile at the look of fright that flooded onto Ron's face as the twins moved into position.

"What's this?" one said, "our little Ronnikins…" said the other, "…getting all overprotective?"

"Now Fred, George," said Mrs Weasley who had been watching the exchange, "that's enough." The twins looked a little put off, and Ron a little relived, but the one on the left gave Harry a very obvious wink that even Ron picked up on.

"Don't mind him," the twin very audibly whispered, echoing his sister from moments before, "he can get a little overexcited sometimes."

"Especially when it comes to his favourite sister over there…" the other added with an identical wink. To which Ginny added, "I'm his _only_ sister!"

"Harry," Mrs Weasley said, gaining his attention, "I'm afraid we need to get going." she looked at her watch and gasped, "Oh my, its almost 3, and we haven't even picked up Ronalds' robes yet!"

It wasn't long before the Weasley family started to file out past him, stopping only for Mrs Weasley to talk to him briefly. "I think you'll find your father towards the back, amongst the Herbology books." She said, before adding as an afterthought, "if you see Arthur there too, he'll be the one with orange hair, do tell him where we're going."

With this she started after the rest of her flock (the twins were once again teasing their younger brother), dragging Ginny along by the hand. Harry watched them go, and raised his hand back at the redhead girl as she waved, before they were lost in the sea of shoppers.

Harry shook his head, trying to dispel the feelings of familiarity, homeliness, safety and… some deeper feeling of... Na, probably something to do with the headache he'd been having earlier.

Maybe his mum was right: Going into that wand-shop, full of magic, was dangerous because it played with your head.

Yeh, that had to be it…


	3. The False Bottom

_**As of the 27th of October 2008: **To any returning readers – I would highly recommend that you re-read this chapter in particular as it contains over 2,000 more words that before, and the start of the next chapter won't make much sense without it._

_To new readers, once again: Glad to have you with us._

_Enjoy:_

* * *

**_Moments later:_**

Harry stumbled through the stacks of haphazardly stacked books that made up the interior of 'Flourish and Blotts'. Mrs Weasley had said something about his dad being in the Herbology section so, after stepping over a book that seemed to be wriggling it's way to freedom, Harry made his way over to the section of the store that looked decidedly green.

His instincts turned out to be right, as he walked into a small corner of the shop that looked more like a jungle than a book store. Thick vines snaked their way over the bookcases, and strange flowers seemed to 'look' at Harry, coughing out yellow dust from their petals every few seconds. It was clear that not many people came into this section of the store, in fact, one woman had already tried to grab his arm to stop him wandering too close. However, that made it relatively easy to spot the group of three adults, one of which had bright orange hair, standing in a huddle towards the very far end.

Slowly, Harry picked his way through the mass of green, having to duck a few times to stop an overgrown venus-fly-trap from making a meal from his head, but eventually he found himself within listening range.

"...trying to tell us that he's a..." said the man who Harry assumed was Mr Weasley from the colour of his hair. Harry's dad cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

"Exactly! Lily would kill me if she ever found out, but I tested them myself." he said in an urgent yet excited voice, "He'd give old Snivellus a run for his money!" next to him, Harry recognised the slightly ragged form of Remus Lupin, who was chuckling at his friend's comment.

"Yes," he said with a smile, "But you would say that, seeing as he's your own...Oh, hi there Harry." Harry smiled back at his honorary uncle, but was slightly confused to see his dad jump a foot in the air at the sound of Harry's name.

"Hello, uncle Remus," Harry said with a smile, although he kept his father under a watchful eye, "What would mum kill you for doing dad?" His father squirmed, as normal when he was trying to think up some sort of excuse. Luckily, Remus came to his aid.

"Your dad was just saying that if your mother found out that he was doing the shopping without her, she'd probably not be best pleased." he said smoothly, giving Mr Weasley a knowing smile.

"Oh yes," the red-head said in response, "Molly would take my head clean off if I even thought of doing the Hogwarts shopping without her." In-between them, Harry's dad seemed to relax.

"Y-yeh," he said with a nervous smile, "I was just debating if this little shopping trip was best postponed for a short while..." he froze soon after saying this however, as a voice sounded from behind Harry.

"Not likely James Potter!" it said. Harry spun on the spot, ginning ear to ear to find his mum standing arms akimbo at the entrance to the Herbology section. By her side, the small figure of Eleanor Potter stood, looking like a little black-haired mirror image of her mother.

"I've tried for three months to get you into this store," Lily Potter growled out, "Don't think you can sneak out of this now!" Harry was pleased to see his father squirming once more.

"Please... Lily flower..." James said pleadingly, Harry winced, 'Lily flower' was a term that came out when his father was really in trouble. Unfortunately, his mother didn't like the name in the slightest.

"Don't you 'Lily flower' me Potter!" she said, advancing on the cowering wizard. It seemed even the plants could sense her mood, as a few vines hastily cleared out the way of her, and the fly-trap retreaded back into a space between 'My First Mandragora' and 'So your broom's decided to become part of your garden: A guide to recovery'.

Likewise, Harry quickly sidestepped his mother as she advanced on his father and, along with the other people within the section who wanted nothing to do with the argument, made his way out of the jungle environs and back into the normal part of the store where his sister was waiting.

"D'you think she'll let him eat supper tonight?" Elle said with a smirk as she watched their parents fighting it out, or rather, Lily ranting and James cowering. Above her, Uncle Lupin barked out a laugh.

"He made her miss Harry's first wand fitting," he said with a predatory smile, "I'd say he'd be lucky to be eating again by this time next week." beside him, Mr Weasley chuckled.

"It would be the very same for me," he said with a sigh, "and on that note, I need to be off before I get the same treatment for 'missing' the shopping."

"Oh, Mrs Weasley said that she was going to Madam Malkin's for robes next." Harry said, Mr Weasley voiced his thanks, and then left the store in a hurry. Harry turned to Elle.

"Fancy seeing you here sis," he said with a smirk, "didn't think mum was going to let you out the house for a week after that stunt you pulled yesterday."

His sister smirked back, and above them, Remus arched an eyebrow. The day before, Elle had stolen her father's broom in the name of 'practising'. It had been okay for a while, with James out there supervising, but as soon as he'd gone back into the house for a drink, little Elle had attempted a Wronski feint. Unfortunately, her mother had been watching from an upstairs window, and immediately grounded the girl (both literally and figuratively), despite the fact that it had (almost) worked.

"Mummy got a fire-call from Mr Fortescue, saying daddy had left a wand on the table he'd been sitting at." she grinned in a predatory way, "Now mummy's more angry with daddy, than with me."

Remus chuckled. "I had wondered where the wand was..."

Before Harry could question his Uncle about how he knew he'd been and bought a wand, his parents returned, a satisfied grin plastered over his mother's face, and a gloomy one on his father's. As she approached, Lily handed Harry a wand he recognised as his own.

"Now, you're not to use it until you're safely in Hogwarts," she said with a stern look, "but you have to learn to carry it without loosing it." she glanced at her husband, who shrank back, and incited a grin from Remus. Harry took the wand and, without thinking about it, put it up his sleeve.

Lily smirked at the sight, thinking that it was cure that Harry would copy his father, and pulled out a set of yellow parchments from her bag that Harry recognised as his Hogwarts letter.

"Right, so, while we're here, we might as well do this thing..." she said, scanning the list. "Oh, well will you look at this..." she mumbled, "they've taken porcupine of the pet list... I've always thought that was a bit strange."

Grabbing Elle's hand, she swiftly made her way out the store without a backward glance. Harry sighed and soon ran after her, but not before he heard his Uncle Remus' comment to his dad:

"How you got to be an Auror still beats me..."

--

Shopping took a much shorter time than Harry anticipated. Within the hour he'd already received a collapsible cauldron, a set of 10 crystal phials, a _normal_ telescope (James had tried purchasing a jewel encrusted one, but Lily had caught him in time), a set of bronze scales, and his fresh, if slightly pongy, potions ingredients. They'd even been back into Flourish and Blotts to get his school books. This time Lily hadn't caught James sneaking an extra book (_'How to Hex your Enemies, and Bewitch your Friends') _into Harry's cauldron. Despite James' distractions though, Harry couldn't shake the intense feeling of deja-vu.

They only had once place left to go:

"Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions," James read with a sigh, "It's been quite a while since I've had to go in here..." his wife flicked him an annoyed glance.

"Don't I just know it." she said with a grumble as she grabbed his arm and led him into the store. Behind them, Harry and Elle sniggered.

"The only reason he hasn't been in there," Elle said, "is because Madame Malkin _likes_ him." Harry gave a snort and the two followed their parents into the shop.

Harry had always liked this shop, especially for playing 'hide and seek' in when he was younger. Fabric hung from every conceivable place in the store, walls, doors, window frames, even the rafters had great curtains of shimmering fabric draped over them, making it a perfect place to run around, and play in. The other reason for him liking it, of course, was the reaction of the old store clerk, Madame Malkin, who seemed to fawn over his father like he was some celebrity. Hah! Fat chance of that!

However, when the two children walked through the store front, they were slightly taken back by the sheer brightness of the interior. Not because of any of the fabrics hanging around the room, but by the sheer amount of red hair...

"Molly!" Lily said happily, "Fancy seeing you here, I thought you'd be long gone by now." Molly Weasley smiled back in an exasperated manner, and now that Harry looked, that same expression seemed to be plastered all over the Weasley clan. Even Madame Malkin seemed a little put-out as she adjusted the hem of one of the twin's robes.

"When you have seven children, and a husband who can't stay away from trouble," both women glanced at their respective husbands with scowls, (both men were currently deep in conversation with each other, probably thinking up some new hair-brained scheme) "you tend to spend a lot of time in clothes stores."

Lily smiled sympathetically, "You know," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, so as not to attract the attention of the store owner, "I've found that some Muggle shops can be much cheaper..."

Harry tuned out as the conversation turned to house-witch muttering about budgeting, and looked over to were Ron and Ginny were looking bored. Smiling, he grabbed Elle's hand and practically dragged her over to the two littlest Weasley children. Ginny spotted them coming.

"Heya, Harry!" she said happily. Harry's colon decided to do a forward flip, but he ignored it best he could.

"Hi, Ginny, Ron." he replied, nodding at each in greeting. Ginny smiled back, but Ron looked slightly murderous. Harry continued on in any case, "Guys, this is my sister Eleanor..."

"It's Elle!" she said adamantly, slapping her brother on the hip for his digression. Ginny smiled even more, and even Ron seemed pleased with something, but that was probably more to do with the bodily harm Harry was receiving.

"Yeh, sorry," Harry said, smirking, "this is _Elle_." he motioned with his hands and his sister did a little over theatrical bow.

"Elle," Harry said, totally ignoring his sister's little act as if it were normal, "this is Ron and Ginny." he looked at Ginny, who smiled back (inciting more colon gymnastics), "Ginny's starting Hogwarts next year, like you."

"Ooh, really?" Elle said, ending her bow abruptly, "Then we can be on the Quidditch team together!" the two girls squealed like only 10 year old girls could, and ran off hand in hand, leaving Ron and Harry looking slightly stunned.

"Bloody girls..." Ron grumbled, and Harry couldn't help but grin. "Never been on a broom higher than a foot off the floor and already think they're going to be Quidditch champions." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Elle flies much higher than that, but then, that's dad's fault." Harry smiled to himself, "If mum had her way, Elle would never touch another broom as long as she lived." Ron blinked.

"That would be horrible!" he said with a look of shock on his face, "Imagine never flying again..."

"I dare-say you could eat more," a snide voice came from the entrance to the shop, "for the price of a broomstick, your family could eat for a year!"

Harry and a red-eared Ron turned to find a boy in the doorway to the shop. He had straight blond hair and held himself in a regal manner that matched his obviously custom fitted robes. Harry could feel something stirring in the back of his mind, a big black feeling seemed to be growing. It had happened every time he'd come into contact with any member of the Malfoy family, but especially with Draco. Luckily, meetings like this were exceptionally rare.

"Malfoy..." both boys spat out at the same time, giving identical glowers.

"Oh, how quaint, Potter's here too! I knew it was only a matter of time before the two biggest blood traitor families of them all joined forces. Tell me, when's the wedding?" Ron and Harry suddenly glanced at each other and shuffled apart slightly.

"Shut it Malfoy!" Ron snarled as he felt around in his back pocket, "Unless you want a turnip for a nose!"

Suddenly he seemed to find what he wanted, and he thrust forward his hand, a battered and slightly worse-for-wear wand gripped firmly in his fingers. Harry suddenly realised he had his own wand in hand, although he couldn't remember taking it out of his sleeve...

By now, the adults had realised what was happening, and the two patriarchs had quickly made their way over. "Harry, Ron," James said in a voice very reminiscent of his 'Auror voice', "lower your wands, or I'll have to take them away from you."

"But _dad_!" Harry said, apparently James wanted none of it.

"No Harry! Do as I say, Draco's done nothing wrong. And even if he had, you have no right to stick your wands in his face." This time, James' voice betrayed the fact that he found it perfectly okay for people to point wands in any Malfoy face, however, Harry and Ron both lowered their wands.

Harry slipping his back into his right sleeve.

It happened none-to-soon, as just at that moment Narcissa Malfoy walked through the door, only to the store to find herself being eyed by everyone inside.

"Hello Narcissa," James said with narrowed eyes.

"Potter," she replied, raising her nose in the air a few more inches, "how goes my esteemed _cousin_?" she said, looking as if there was a bad taste in her mouth.

"Sirius sends his regards, I'm sure." James said, "It seems to be a bit full in here at the moment, perhaps you could return in a while?"

Draco snorted.

"Malfoys... Inconvenience themselves, for Potters and Weasleys?" he scoffed, "I think not!" Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy, and Draco seemed to flinch for a second, before snapping his head round to meet Harry's eye. Luckily, everyone else was looking at Narcissa in expectation.

She huffed in a disgruntled manner before grabbing her son's arm, "Come Draco, we'll take our custom to 'Twillfit and Tattings', at least they don't let _blood traitors_ in there!"

This decision didn't seem to sit well with Draco, as his screams of "Unhand me woman!" could be heard all the way down the street.

With their departure, the tension within the shop melted away with the first giggle from the two girls (who were hidden somewhere in the maze of cloth). James and Arthur gave their sons small smiles and went back to their position near the tailoring stool. Harry and Ron glanced at each other with a smirk plastered over their faces; a screaming Malfoy heir could do that to a boy.

Unfortunately, Ron's smirk abruptly vanished a few minuted later when Ginny and Elle ran around the pair, and he remembered that he was still angry with Harry.

A few minutes later, the store became noticeably darker as the clan of Weasley left, taking their burning red hair with them. Elle and Ginny waved goodbye, promising to 'practice Quidditch' together again, whilst Ron and Harry exchanged a small nod.

It wasn't much, but in Harry's opinion it was a definite step up from the open glares he'd been receiving from the boy earlier.

"Come on Harry," his mother said as they watched the Weasleys walk down the street (one of the twins was now replacing the wand in Ron's back pocket with a long thin object whilst the other distracted him), "Your turn!"

Harry smiled as he saw the twins smirk at each other and stepped over to the measuring stool. He was slightly more prepared for the 'killer tape measure' this time, but it still wasn't a pleasant experience, and was relived when it finally dropped to the floor, having finished it's task.

It was quite a while later when the Potter family walked out the store again – after Harry received his new school clothes, James had been fitted with a new pair of dress robes, much to the delight of Madame Malkin. It seemed even Harry's mum found it amusing the way the store clerk made James uncomfortable. In any case, she didn't object in the slightest to the 16 different robes that Madame Malkin suggested James try on., so it was with three very big smiles (and one harassed looking grimace) that the family caught sight of Hagrid, the largest man that Harry had ever seen. Okay, so perhaps 'caught sight' was a bad description, seeing as the man took up most of everyone's vision anyway.

"Hey!" the giant man said as he almost walked over Harry, "If it ain't lil Arry!" he said happily, "an' the rest o' the Potters too. Ain't this jus' my lucky day!"

"Hello Hagrid," James said morosely, earning a slap in the stomach from his wife.

"It's nice to see you Hagrid!" she said, smiling up at the big man, "We're just in town to get Harry's school supplies, what brings you all the way to London?"

The big man's face faltered a little, but then swelled with pride as he leant down to whisper, "Official Hogwarts business..." he said with a wink and a pat of his huge overcoat. Harry didn't notice the raised eyebrow from his father.

"Anyway, can' stop! Gotta get this back t' Dumbledore a-s-a-p..." he said in an excited voice. Harry thought it seemed like Hagrid was enjoying whatever it was his job was just a little too much.

"I'll see yeh at Hogwarts 'Arry." he said, patting Harry's unruly mop of hair as he pushed past them, his immense bulk not doing him any favours in the cramped spaces of Diagon Ally. However, before he got more than a meter away, he turned back and shouted over the crowd that had already filled the empty space he left in his wake: "Oh, an' look out for lil Neville Longbottom, I saw 'im around earlier."

Everyone in the nearby vicinity -that being most the alley- stopped for a second at this news, leaving the Ally in an eerily dead calm that made Harry shiver. However, it was quickly replaced by excited screaming and jabbering. Hagrid winced and waved before making his way down towards the pub.

In the Potter family circle, James shook his head. "I love that guy to bits, but I wouldn't trust him to keep my birthday secret for more than a few minutes." Next to him, Lily snorted.

"No, you made that mistake once back in our 3rd year... Everyone in the school knew by Tuesday."

James shrugged, "Least I got more presents than usual that year."

--

The Potter family moved quickly down the street, or, as quickly as a group of people could move in a mob of over-excited witches and wizards. They were attempting to reach the large white Gringotts building, but the sheer amount of people out in the street was making it slightly difficult. It had only been a few minutes since Hagrid had exclaimed to the entire Alley that Neville Longbottom was in their midst, and that's all the time it took for everyone to forget about the shopping they'd come to do, and start looking for the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Wow," said Harry as his father pulled him through the growing throng of people, "I'm glad I'm not Neville..." James exchanged a brief look with his wife at the comment, but Harry didn't notice, "I mean, all these people? That's gotta be scary!"

"And that's why you have to be nice to him and not stare when you meet him." his mother said from somewhere behind him.

"Harry's going to meet him?" Elle said excitedly, "Can I come too?"

"No, Elle. Neville's starting Hogwarts with Harry this year, that's why Harry's going to meet him." Lily said to her daughter as she steered her round an overturned table, _'damn these people' _she thought, _'what ever happened to privacy?'_

James frowned as he saw the tale-tale sign of Mrs Longbottom (the vulture hat was a kind of wizarding urban myth), and the group of wizards and witched all crammed round her, trying to get a better look at the person who would undoubtedly be stood next to the woman. James nodded at the disturbance with his head, attracting Lily's attention.

"Found them," he said, "it looks like they're going the same way as us. Think they could do with an escort?"

Lily smiled at her husband. "I knew there was a reason I loved you..." she said, earning gagging sounds from her children.

The Potters made their way through the squash of people until they were almost standing next to the beacon that was the vulture hat.

"Watch this..." James whispered to Harry as he took out his wand and aimed it at the offending bird. James muttered something Harry didn't quite catch, and suddenly a yellow beam of light flowed out of his wand, striking the bird's beak. At first nothing happened, but then Harry spotted a small yellow translucent sphere grow from the point of contact. Within moments, it had grown and morphed into a dome of expanding yellow light that completely covered the woman underneath, along with her charge. A few moments more, and the barrier expanded more, and people who were too close found themselves being pushed backwards and away from the shield.

Smirking, James grabbed his son's hand and suddenly ran at the yellow barrier. Thinking it was going to repel them like everyone else, Harry closed his eyes and waited for impact. It never came, and instead he found himself within the yellow dome of light which had now stopped expanding.

"Wow..." Harry spun round at the strange but highly familiar voice (although he didn't know how this could be so), and quickly identified the owner to be that of Neville Longbottom. Harry couldn't help but find his eyes tracing the boy's hairline for the infamous scar, and felt extremely annoyed with himself when he actually found it. Neville looked at him apprehensively, apparently he'd noticed the visual sweep of his hairline.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, "it's a reflex." he offered the boy a small smile, and was slightly surprised when it was returned.

"Neville," the boy said, as if Harry hadn't a clue in the world what his name was, and held out a hand.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, taking the hand and shaking it firmly. "We came to help you out..." he gave the yellow barrier a glance, as if making sure it was staying in one piece. He suddenly became aware of all the adults (including Remus, although he had no idea where he been for the past few hours) were watching them. "What?" he said, and suddenly they all seemed to snap out of their states and started to move again. Harry shared a look with Neville that clearly said 'weird', and Neville send one back that showed that he was almost used to it.

"Come on guys," James said, "the bank's just over there." And the group slowly started to move, taking the yellow shield with them.

--

Despite the shield that surrounded them, the group found moving towards the bank about as slow and cumbersome as trying to wrestle a mountain troll. More than once, Harry could have sworn he'd heard his dad mutter something like '_Should have made the shield wedge-shaped..._' as the crowd, despite the shield's properties, seemed to refuse to move out the way.

However, ten minutes later the group erupted out of the crowd and up the white steps of Gringott's Bank. They passed a few sentry goblins, who seemed to smile at them with their sharp teeth gleaming in their mouths as they ushered them inside. Harry was suddenly glad that he wasn't a member of the crowd who was about to attempt to follow the famous Neville Longbottom into the bank...

With a snap, the shield collapsed around them as they entered the main hall. A goblin suddenly appeared at the same time, his teeth even shaper than the sentries outside.

"Greetings," it said, bowing, "My name is Ragnok. I apologise for the loss of your shield, but I can assure you that you are in no danger here." His eyes flickered to the boy standing next to Harry for the briefest of seconds. "You are welcomed to Gringott's as honoured guests, please do not hesitate to ask for anything you desire."

Harry noticed his mother looking uncomfortable at the thought, but the regal pose of Mrs Longbottom reminded him more of a look he'd seen on Mrs Malfoy's face. To his side, Harry was glad to note that his own expression of embarrassment was mirrored on Neville's face.

"For now, let me show you to a private room, away from this..." he looked over the other members of the public that made up the interior of the bank, a few of which were pointing in their direction, "...rabble. This way please."

With a shrug from his father, the group followed the small goblin to a small side door, and into one of the most comfy looking rooms Harry had ever seen. Red sofas dotted the room, all facing a central fire that was crackling happily. To one side there was a small table that was overloaded with steaming food, the smells wafting over almost saying _'eat me... eat me'._

"Your bank managers will be with you in just a minute. In the meantime, please make yourselves at home and help yourself to any food or beverage you wish." With this declaration, the goblin bowed and exited through a door that was pretending to be a bookcase.

Naturally, it was Elle who was first to move, and quite predictably it was towards the table of food and drink.

"Now don't go eating too much of that!" Harry's mother said in a quasi-stern voice, "or you'll throw up in the cart!" James smirked, obviously remembering the last time they had visited the vault as a family, when Elle had done just that – and into Lily's lap too. Harry had to fight a smile down as Elle completely ignored her mother, and he made a mental note to not sit next to the girl. He lost the battle with the smile when both his dad and Remus joined the littlest Potter at the table, to much huffing from Lily.

"T-thank you..." a small voice from behind Harry said, "f-for earlier in that crowd." Harry turned to find Neville still looking embarrassed. Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy. If the rumours were to be believed, Neville hadn't been seen out in public for almost a year, and that wasn't good for anyone, 'Boy-Who-Lived' or not.

"Don't worry about it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck at the thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was actually thanking _him_, of all people, "It was dad's idea anyway. It's not like I can do magic yet..."

"That's right!" said his mother, who had been listening in on the conversation, "and you're not going to even try until you're in your first lesson!"

Harry's head lowered sheepishly, but Neville's eyes lit up.

"You're starting Hogwarts soon?" he said, a hint of desperation evident in his voice. Harry nodded.

"Yep! I got my letter s'morning." He said, slipping his wand out from his sleeve, "Got this about an hour ago." Harry held the length of Holly up to show the saviour of the wizarding world, the torches around the room flickering in it's polished surface.

"Cool! Me too!" Neville said, tugging a wand out from his back pocket and holding it up next to Harry's. Instantly, a feeling of possessiveness overcame Harry as he looked at the wand in Neville's hand.

"11 inches, Holly and Phoenix feather..." Harry said. He hardly noticed as Neville's eyes widened, but definitely noticed when the boy sharply took his wand away from Harry's view, shielding it protectively.

It was belatedly that Harry realised that his hand was in the motion of reaching for Neville's wand. He quickly made use of the hand by rubbing the back of his neck again.

"How did you know that?" Neville said, looking a little scared of Harry for the first time.

For what felt like the one hundredth time that day, Harry tried to answer, but couldn't. What was alarming however, was that he knew even more about the wand than he'd said. He knew, for instance, that it was better for Charms than Transfiguration, that there was a small knot of wood on the handle that tended to rub on the thumb, causing a callus to form, and that the phoenix that gave the feather gave one other... and that the wand that received the other feather was the property of...

Oh Merlin...

Harry was snapped out of his train of thought as another goblin coughed to reveal his being in the room. Harry didn't think he'd ever be happier to see those razor-sharp teeth.

"Greetings, I am Fartin," it said as it bowed. Harry heard his sister snort into her drink, but a harsh look from his mother shut her up, "I am manager to the Longbottom account. I believe you wish to withdraw some money from your vault?"

Harry frowned. As far as he could remember, nobody had actually told any of the goblins the reason for their visit. Perhaps that was all anybody came to the bank for these days...

"We do," said the crisp, harsh voice of Mrs Longbottom, "And I would appreciate some speed in the matter." Harry's mother raised her eyebrows at the tone of the female Longbottom, and beside him, Neville seemed to grow embarrassed once more, although he was still eyeing Harry with much suspicion.

"Of course Mrs Longbottom," Fartin said, flashing his razor-like teeth at her, "will you be waiting for the Potters' manager? Or would you like a private cart?"

"I wouldn't want to burden the Potters any longer than possible." she said sharply, displaying the fact that, despite her words, all she really wanted was to be free of them. Harry frowned at that.

Didn't she appreciate the fact that his dad had helped them?

Ignoring the tension that had suddenly sprung up in the room, Fartin bowed his head in understanding, motioning with his hands towards one of the larger doors in the room.

"Come, Neville!" Mrs Longbottom said, her nose lifting ever so slightly as she swept out of the room, her travelling cloak billowing around her like the proverbial wings of the stuffed vulture upon her head. Neville, despite his uncertainty about Harry, shot him and the rest of the room an apologetic look as he trotted after her.

As the door closed, a silence descended over the room, only broken by the crackling of the fire.

It didn't take long for the Potter and Lupin manager, Goldsnare, to announce himself. Within minutes, they were bundled into two carts and were speeding down the winding and downright dangerous tracks that led deep beneath London.

--

Despite his earlier mental note, Harry had not been able to procure a seat away from his sister, who was now turning a worrying shade of green. He was actively trying to lean away from the girl, especially when the cart's movement caused her to slide along the smooth bench towards him. Sitting in the seat behind, Remus was chuckling softly to himself at Harry's obvious discomfort.

"How much further?" Harry asked, eyeing Elle's movements wearily as the cart suddenly careered down a rather steep slope. In front of the pair, Goldsnare pulled a lever, causing the cart to shift onto a second track with a loud grating sound.

"Oh, not much further now," the Goblin said, although he sounded rather like he was enjoying himself, "The Potter vault is quite deep within the system, helps with security you see." he explained happily as the ground suddenly dropped away beneath the track to reveal a huge underground lake. Harry couldn't help but stand up slightly in his seat to get a better look over the side of the cart. By the torchlight that lined the edges of the cavern, he could see the beautiful blue-green water many hundreds of meters below, but slightly more worrying perhaps, he could also see a rather large dark shape swimming slowly around in it's depths.

A strong hand on his shoulder forced him back into his seat, and Harry was disappointed at first, but quickly forgot about it as he heard Remus whisper in his ear, "Look up."

Harry gasped as he caught sight of the shape that was gliding majestically around the stalactites that decorated the cavern's high ceiling. He couldn't quite tell what species it was, but the torchlight was more than enough to highlight the creature's beautiful red-brown scales.

"Merlin..." Elle's strangled cry from beside him as she also cast her gaze upwards, her nausea apparently forgotten, "A dragon!"

As soon as this exclamation came, however, the cart reached the far side of the cavern, and the dragon disappeared as they entered another roughly-dug tunnel through the bedrock.

Three minutes later found the cart mercifully at rest outside the Potter vault. Harry and Elle, who was looking a little green again now that the excitement of the dragon had gone, had already alighted, leaving Remus' cart to pull away from the 'stop' and start back towards the Lupin vault of it's own accord.

"Do you have your key?" Goldsnare asked James as the group approached the carnivorous door. Nodding, James grabbed for something in his robe pocket, before handing the little golden object over to the goblin.

The key was 'normal' sized to a goblin, Harry realised, as he watched Goldsnare slot it into a tiny keyhole, opening the vault with the softest of 'clicks'. As the large double-doors swung slowly open, a wave of purple smoke rushed out, making Elle cough. Harry fought to suppress a snigger as his sister's plight.

"Come on," Harry's mother said, grabbing her daughter's hand and walking swiftly into the vault, "we still have food to buy, and it's getting late."

Harry stayed where he was, however, marvelling as the piles of coins became visible through the rapidly disappearing smoke. The sight always made him pause. Beside him, his father was staring at the same sight.

"Weird, isn't it, that all of that belongs to us?" he said softly. Harry couldn't help but agree. "It's not all gold and silver though."

Harry looked at his father quizzically, surprised to see a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"I have something to show you," James said eventually, leaning down to take his son's hand, "but you've got to promise not to tell your mother."

Harry didn't quite understand what was going on, but agreed. Something inside told him this would be good.

His father led him into the vault, skirting around a sizeable pile of Sickles to reveal a small collection of furniture and tapestries that had been placed up against one wall. James let go of his son's hand and walked towards a rather beaten looking chest of draws.

"This," he said, pulling out the second draw, "is something your Grandfather gave to me on my eleventh birthday, just like his father before him, and his father before... well, you get the picture."

Now fully open, Harry peered into the draw only to find it empty. He looked up to his father, who grinned manically.

"Couldn't have your mother finding it, now could we?" he said, sliding his hand right to the far corner of the draw. Harry heard something click, and suddenly the bottom came away in James's hands. Harry's eyes widened.

A false bottom!

Placing the thin sheet of wood on the floor, James once again slid his hand into the open draw, only this time he didn't come back with another piece of wood, but a neatly folded piece of silken material in his hand.

Once clear of the draw, he shook it out into it's full length.

"It's a cloak." Harry said, somewhat disappointed. It was very pretty, and from the fine material and stitching it was obviously very valuable too, but after all the intrigue he was at least expecting a _sword_ or something.

James held up his finger disapprovingly. "Oh no, son of mine. This is much more than just any old cloak. This, my boy, is an _invisibility cloak_. And I'm giving it to you."

Harry blinked. He'd heard of those from Uncle Sirius. If what his father was saying was true, then the cloak had much more value than he'd originally given it credit to. Indeed, these things were so rare and hard to make that he suspected it would cost at least half the gold in their vault to replace.

But, more than that, by the way Uncle Sirius had talked about them, they were the perfect pranking tool. The power of invisibility!

This was going to be a very good year...

"Well, don't just gawk at it!" James whispered harshly, looking nervously over to where Lily and Elle could be heard scooping up Sickles. "Shove it in your robes before your sister notices!"

Harry did as he was told, roughly folding it before stuffing it into an inside pocket of his robes. He was surprised at how light and fine the material was. Even though his folding was terrible at best, there was still hardly a bulge showing on the outside of his robes.

"And remember, don't tell a soul where you got it, or your mother will hear about it and then kill me."

From the very real fear in his father's eyes, he was inclined to believe him too.


	4. The Hogwarts Express

_****__As of the 27th of October 2008__: __To any returning readers – I would highly recommend that you re-read the previous chapter (chapter 3) as it contains over 2,000 more words than before, and the start of this chapter won't make much sense without it. It's worth it – honestly! However, if you've just come from there having re-read it, then kindly disregard this message (Hope it was as good as I promised)._

_To new readers: Sorry you've had to put up with all these messages. I hope you're enjoying the story so far._

* * *

_**One Month Later:**_

The day for the Hogwarts Express came around swiftly afterwards, the month of August melting into the summer in a haze of Quidditch practice and experimental incantations, mostly under Sirius' tutorship.

The old Marauder had been ecstatic at the news that his favourite nephew had been bought his first wand, and had been around the very next day to teach him how to abuse the power he now held at his fingertips. Naturally, Lily had thrown a fit when she'd caught the pair in her potting shed, practising stinging hexes.

"Sirius Black!" she had said, "If I ever catch you teaching my son _anything_ in the future, you're going to wish you were locked away in Azkaban, where you'd be safe from my wand!"

Harry somehow doubted it, but it had done enough to encourage his Uncle not to sneak him away to teach him things. Instead, he simply sent Harry an Owl twice a day with instructions.

Harry smiled to himself as he walked beside his father, who was pushing a trolley with his trunk and empty bird cage on – Hedwig had disappeared that morning, but his mother had assured him that he would be able to find Harry at Hogwarts. If she only knew that Hedwig was probably sitting patiently on Sirius' desk, awaiting the next letter, she might not have been so comforting.

Dispite the grin on his face, Harry was decidedly nervous. He'd never been away from home for more than a few days before, and that was only to go see the last Quiddditch world cup. Even then his family had been with him.

He thought it was great that he was going to be living in a castle, even better that he wouldn't be bugged by his little sister for an entire _year_! But, it was still scary.

Harry's father suddenly stopped, and Harry came to a halt beside him.

They were standing in front of what appeared to be a normal looking barrier that separated Platforms 9 and 10, and stopped people falling onto the track. However, something in the back of Harry's mind told him that he shouldn't trust his eyes.

"Why'd you stop?" Elle said as she came up behind them, holding her mother's hand.

Harry replied before he realised he was doing it. "It's the barrier." he explained, "It's only an illusion. We just have to wait until we can pass through it without the Muggles spotting us."

James looked down at his son, impressed. "I didn't realise you'd read about the barrier." he said, Harry beamed up at the praise, despite the fact he hadn't read anything about the barrier. "Well, seeing as you're the expert here, why don't you go through first?"

Harry's smile hesitated slightly as he glanced at the very real-looking barrier.

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you." James said encouragingly.

Harry nodded, still uncertain, but the voice in the back of his head was whispering encouraging things. For some reason, the phrase _'best set off at a run if you're nervous_' floated through his mind. Deciding not to think about it too much and just accept the advice, he dashed at the barrier as fast as he could. It came up very fast, and moments before he hit it, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was another of his dad's pranks, and that he was walking – no – _running _straight into it.

His fears were proved completely unfounded as he passed straight through without meeting resistance, emerging into a world of organised chaos.

There were groups of students chattering about their summers, groups of parents chattering about Hogwarts, people running down the platform looking for that someone specific through the carriage windows, others running the other way doing the same thing. There were furry animals, slimy animals, tiny animals and more than one Owl flying freely about delivering last minute packages.

It was exactly what Harry had come to expect from the wizarding world.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" James said, coming to stand next to his son and mistakenly thinking that Harry was staring at the train itself. "Oh look, there's old Emmett Manahan! Look after this for a second, Harry. I haven't seen him in years!" he said, leaving the trolley.

He didn't get very far. "Not yet, Potter!" Lily scolded, grabbing her husband's arm before he could go to far. "You're here to see your son off, not meet up with old drinking partners. You can do that after the train has left."

James looked a little embarrassed, but agreed and took control of the trolley again, pushing it further onto the platform.

Harry looked around at the people as they walked. Some of these people would be in his house, some in his year, some maybe even in his dorm, and he found himself making predictions. For some people, they were complete guessed, especially for the older students. He'd guess that that one would be in Hufflepuff because he looked kind, that one in Ravenclaw because she was carrying a large pile of extra books with her trunk, and that one in Slytherin because he had a big nose.

However, for the younger students, he found that he didn't guess so much as 'know' where they belonged. That one over there would be in Slytherin, but his brother (he knew, but didn't understand why) would be a Ravenclaw. That girl would be a Gryffindor, he knew for certainty. If his Uncle Sirius had been here, he'd probably have placed a bet on it too.

What was most shocking, however, was that he found the _names_ of some of these strangers would creep into the back of his mind. It felt as if he'd known them for years, interacting with them on a personal level for most that time. He knew, for example, that the tall black girl holding the broomstick was called Angelina, and that she was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He shook the thought from his mind. She was just _holding_ a broomstick! It was probably just his imagination running away from him.

"How about this one? It looks relatively empty." His father said, coming to a stop next to one of the carriages. The family stopped around him.

"Now, Harry," his mother said, kneeling down in front of him. Harry looked about, embarrassed, but Lily either didn't notice, or wasn't bothered by a little embarrassment. "I want you to have fun, but remember to behave too." she glanced at James as she said this. The meaning wasn't lost on Harry, who grinned, much to Lily's displeasure. "Remember that because you come from a Wizarding family, you'll know much more than some of your peers who were raised as Muggles, like I was. So be nice to them."

Harry nodded. He'd had this conversation many times over the course of his lifetime, but they had intensified in the past month or so. If he didn't understand what his mother was trying to put across to him by now, he never would.

"Remember too that we love you, and that you can write as often as you like." she finished, planting a kiss on Harry's cheek. Harry screwed up his nose and wiped his cheek with his sleeve, but Lily didn't seem to mind.

"Love you too, mum." he said quietly. His mother must have heard him though, because she reached up and tried to flatten his hair fondly.

"Come on, champ," James said suddenly, plonking Hedwig's cage down beside Harry, "Let's get your stuff on the train, or you'll be going nowhere."

The small act of exercise was a welcome break for Harry, as he didn't have to think about the voices in the back of his head as they whispered things he couldn't possibly know. Having something to do was relaxing, he found, so that when he was leaning out of the carriage window, talking with his family for the last time that summer, his head was a lot clearer.

"...and remember to never trust the Slytherins." James was saying with a smile, knowing that he was about to be told off by his wife. Harry smiled as he watched, wondering for not the first time why his father liked being told off so much. He'd once heard Sirius make a comment about his mother looking 'sexy' when she was angry, but Harry tried not to think about that too much.

Harry looked down to his sister, who was holding her mother's hand once again.

"Come back soon, 'kay." she said sadly. Up to this point, Harry had been glad to leave his little sister behind, but now that he thought about it, he found himself feeling a little sad. She was who he'd go on adventures with, who he would try and play tricks on his uncles with, who he would pretend to be famous Quidditch stars with.

Who would do that with him now? Who would do that with _her_?

In that instant, he decided that he'd try to write to her as often as he could. He didn't know how often that would be, what with all the school work he was going to be given, but he would certainly try.

"Don't worry, sis." he said, "I'll see you at Christmas. That's not so far away."

"That's FOUR months!" she exclaimed, holding up four small fingers to help him understand better.

"And I'll write to you too! Promise!" he added, cementing his decision. If he didn't do it now, he'd have hell to pay from her later on.

She appeared somewhat mollified at that, but was still visibly upset. There was a small cough, and Harry looked up to find his parents staring at him with proud expressions on their faces.

"Come on then," James went on to say, grabbing his daughter's other hand, but he never got to finish his sentence as a large group of very loud redheads arrived on the scene.

"George! Stop kicking your brother! Oh, where has Percy gone? Fred, help Ron get his case up those stairs would you?"

The Weasleys has arrived.

"No, Ginny. You can't go until next year. Arthur, would you go and find Percy? I don't want him to miss the train. George! I said stop that! Oh! Hello Lily, James."

Mrs Weasley smiled tiredly at the Potter family as she ushered her clan into the door to Harry's carriage. Harry didn't envy the woman. How she kept the chaos of her family from running off in seventeen different directions at once was lost on him, but somehow she managed it.

"Would you like some assistance, Molly?" James said, flashing a charming grin at her. Mrs Weasley frowned disapprovingly, but accepted his offer. James turned to his son. "Harry, why don't you jump down and help?"

--

The train left the station not five minutes later with Harry and Ron hanging out the window, waving at their respective sisters as they both raced to keep up with the train. Ultimately, the race was lost and the boys pulled their heads back into the carriage.

The Weasley had moved into the came compartment as him, except a boy called Percy, who hadn't turned up yet. The twins ovvupied the seats nearest the door, whilst Ron and Harry sat next to the window, Ron's case placed on the floor between them as a makeshift table.

"So, a Potter, eh?" one of the twins said, a manic smile plastered over his face.

"We've heard stories of your family's Hogwarts exploits." says the other, an identical smile adorning his face, "The Potter-Black syndicate once had the run of the castle. Even Peeves did what he was told!"

"Peeves?" Harry said, throwing a confused look Ron's way, but he seemed just as in the dark.

"He's the resident poltergeist. If there's chaos abound in the corridors, it's either him..."

"...or us!" the other finished.

Harry gulped.

"I'm Fred, by the way." the first one said, offering his hand. Harry gave it a firm shake.

"And I'm George. Pleased to make your acquaintance." he grabbed Harry's other hand without asking and suddenly Harry was shaking both boy's hands at the same time.

Eventually, they let go.

"We're expecting great things from you, my boy." said Fred.

"We'll be watching your progress with interest, young grasshopper." said George.

And then, quite suddenly, they were gone. Only the snapping shut of the compartment door indicated than anyone had been there.

"You get used to them," Ron said from over Harry's shoulder, "Nutters, both of them. Oh, and if they ever offer you a biscuit, piece of chocolate, drink – anything that you might put in your mouth, say no."

Harry felt his eyebrow rise on his face. "Even if they're being nice?"

"_Especially_ if their being nice. Most likely, it's cursed. It's just safer to say no."

Harry nodded his understanding. Do not accept anything from the twins...

"Wanna play exploding snap?"

--

They were half way though their second game when they were interrupted by a commotion outside their compartment. Harry, being inquisitive by nature, abandoned the game he was loosing quite badly to investigate.

Sticking his head out the door, he easily spotted the source of all the noise – a group of people all peering into a compartment further down the train, mostly giggling girls.

Harry frowned. Who would be inciting that much attention? A Quidditch captain maybe? Perhaps a prefect doing something they shouldn't? A Slytherin being nice to someone?

His answer came with the reappearance of the Weasley twins from the scrum. Harry was disturbed to see large grins on both faces.

"What's going on?" Ron's head said as he finally made it to the doorway.

Fred – or was it George, Harry couldn't quite tell – replied. "It's Longbottom!" he said excitedly, "He's here! In that compartment!"

"Imagine!" the other one said, "Neville Longbottom... and in our house too. He'll have to be!"

"Neville's here?" Harry said, his brain belatedly informing him that he'd been informed of Neville's starting Hogwarts this year.

Ron's eyes widened, "You _know_ him?"

Harry shrugged. "I've met him before. My dad used to go to work with his. Used to be friends too, before... well... you know."

All three Weasleys nodded sadly. The spark of mischief was back in the twins' eyes within moments however.

"Well, seeing as you _know_ him..." one of them said, eyeing his twin, who was grinning manically.

"...we could always go help him out a little..."

"...cause a distraction..."

"...sneak him out..."

"I've got the perfect thing!" Harry exclaimed, stepping back inside the compartment and stretched up to his trunk. Snapping it open, he reached inside to grab the last thing he'd packed before leaving the house.

Standing back a pace, he threw the over-sized garment over his shoulders.

"Oh wow!" Ron said, reaching out with a shaking hand towards where Harry was standing, now completely invisibly, "An invisibility cloak!"

The twins looked at each other, a gleam in their eyes. "Potter. We bow to you."

And they did. Harry was glad he was under the cloak, because they couldn't see his blush.

"Okay. Here's the plan..."

--

A scream echoed down the carriage as five dungbombs went off simultaneously, filling the corridor with a noxious smelling gas. Many tried covering their mouths with their hands and sleeves, but the more experienced among them just turned and ran away from the area completely. There was no way to keep that smell out, and not even Neville Longbottom was _that_ interesting.

Within a matter of seconds, the corridor was cleared of students, so no one noticed the door slide open by it's own accord.

Except Neville Longbottom.

He looked up in alarm, expecting one of the people who had been pressing their noses up against the windows to have finally plucked up the courage to come in and talk to him.

Instead, there was clear air – and a very foul smell.

"Phew!" he said, covering his nose with his hand. It was no good though, he could still smell it – whatever _it_ was.

"Heh, yeh. Sorry about that." a voice said. Neville jumped almost a foot in the air, to which the voice replied. "Oh, whoops..."

Suddenly, the head of a familiar looking boy appeared in mid air, right in the centre of the compartment.

"Quickly," he said, opening up his cloak, which appeared both to be huge and the cause of his invisibility, "They'll be back as soon as the smell clears!"

Neville might not have been the smartest tool in the shed, but he caught the gist of what was being asked of him and dived under the cloak. The boy, who's name he'd suddenly remembered as being 'Harry Potter', quickly shifted the cloak so that it hung evenly over the both of their feet, before replacing the hood, hiding them both from view completely.

None-too-soon, either.

A very angry elder student came running down the passage, pausing to look crossly into the seemingly empty compartment. A small red badge with the letter 'P' was pinned to his Hogwarts robes, pointing him out as a Prefect.

Neville let out a breath that he didn't realise he'd been holding when the boy finally left. He felt Harry do the same beside him.

"Come on," Harry whispered. Now that they were both under the cloak, Neville could clearly see the boy standing next to him. He was currently indicating with his fingers that they should exit the compartment. "We need to leave before anyone blocks the corridor."

Neville nodded his understanding. He had no idea where he was going, but it had to be better than this place.

The pair quickly made their way out of the compartment and into the deserted corridor. Neville looked left and right, seeing a red-haired student blocking people approaching in both directions. They were warning people against the smell, but he sensed that they had something to do with his escape too.

Harry tugged on his arm, indicating that they go left, so he obeyed. They reached one deserted compartment – two dungbombs clearly broken on the floor – but continued past without pausing. Neville was starting to worry by the time they got right up to where the red-headed student was valiantly still trying to hold back the students, but he found himself being suddenly pulled into the last compartment, who's door was conveniently open.

"Sit down in the far corner," Harry whispered as he climbed out of the cloak, pointing to one of the corners by the window, the other was being filled by another red-haired boy who was setting up what looked like a game of exploding snap, "and keep the cloak on. I'll be back in a second."

Then the boy dashed out. Neville followed orders once more, sliding into the seat opposite the ginger boy. His mind was still on Potter, however. Who was this kid who would not only care enough to 'rescue' him, but wasn't in awe of him enough to order him around. Sure, he'd met Harry Potter before, and his Gran had told him all about James Potter, although from her stories he was never made out to be anything but a grinning idiot.

Still, he found himself feeling very grateful towards Harry Potter.

--

Harry poked his head out the compartment door and into the corridor. Fred and George were still holding back the tide of students, so he jumped out and casually walked towards the nearest one.

"Honestly, love. You don't want to go down there yet... Stinks to high heaven. What makes you think Longbottom is still there anyway? If I were him, I'd be as far away from that smell as I could be... No, of course he still has a sense of smell! What history books have you been reading?"

"What's going on, Fred?" Harry said, guessing the name as he approached the boy. Fred turned his head to answer, but the distraction was enough for a determined student to sneak under his arm, and suddenly the dam broke, a flood of students flowing back down the corridor to where the boy-who-lived was reported to be seated.

Fred allowed himself to be swept aside by the sudden rush, as if admitting defeat, but the small wink he shot Harry was enough to conform it was all an act. Harry looked to the other twin, who had used the sound of the oncoming students as the excuse to be distracted, and then he too was 'swept away' by a rush of students.

"Don't think I'd have been able to hold them much longer anyway," Fred said as he and Harry entered their compartment. Harry shrugged as he sat down next to Ron and started a new game of snap, completely ignoring the concealed Neville Longbottom in the corner.

Shortly, George entered the compartment too, looking a little worse-for-wear.

"It's like the sales in Twilfit and Tattings out there!" he exclaimed, collapsing heavily into the seat, right next to where Neville was hidden. There was a small squeak of alarm, but nobody reacted.

"And when, dear brother-o-mine, have you been in a Twillfit and Tattings sale?" Fred said incredulously to his twin.

George shot back a haunted look, "Summer 1984... I still have the nightmares..."

Both twins nodded morosely, earning a snigger from Ron. Harry watched with a half-smile on his face. He hadn't quite gotten a handle on what Fred and George were exactly, but his instincts were that they were good people. Dangerous and slippery to be sure, but good.

And his gut instincts were always correct.

"Hi there, terribly sorry to barge in on you like this..." a head suddenly said from the doorway. It wasn't anyone Harry could remember talking to, but the name 'Ernie' popped into his head. "...but I don't suppose if you know anything about the rumour of Neville Longbottom being around these parts?"

"I'm afraid not, old bean." George replied, whilst at the same time he subtly moved his arm to elbow the hiding boy in the ribs. "You might try further on down the train. I did hear a terrible ruckus earlier on during the trip."

"Oh, and do watch out for the dungbombs that some blighter left down there." said his twin.

"Most likely a despicable fellow." George replied.

"Oh! Most definitely!" declared Fred.

Ernie paused for a second, obviously unsure as to if the pair were making fun of him or not, but eventually nodded his thanks and disappeared off down the train.

There were three further interruptions, all of whom were sent on their way, before the lady with the snack trolley appeared. Ron produced a soggy looking sandwich, but the twins laughed at him, producing their money purses.

"Mum doesn't actually expect you to eat them, you know." one of them said, shelling out for a number of pasties.

"No," replied the other, "They're for paying the Giant Squid when you cross the lake later on. If you don't have anything to give him, he makes you swim."

Ron's face went white, but he put his sandwiches away. Fred – Harry thought it was Fred anyway – laughed and chucked one of his pasties at him.

"Don't say I never give you anything."

Ron snorted, "How could I say that? Last week you gave me a rash!"

Harry laughed as the twins and Ron recounted the story of how Ron had been duped into eating a piece of fruit that they'd charmed. Originally the charm was meant to cause Ron's nose to turn a bright red, but instead it produced a rash that completely covered his face.

"We never did find out why that happened..." George with a grin and a far away look.

A giggle sounded from the seat beside the twin, which made the boy jump.

"Oh, Merlin! I'd forgotten about you!" George said, once he'd recovered. Taking out his wand he waved it in the general direction of the window shutters between them and the corridor. They suddenly dropped, giving them a little privacy. "You can probably take that thing off now, if you want."

All eyes turned to the seemingly empty corner as Neville's head slowly came into view. He appeared a little embarrassed, what with all the people staring at him, but smiled nonetheless.

"Hi." he said, giving them all a wave of a floating hand. George ceased it.

"Jolly spiffing to meet you , old chap!" he said, shaking it vigorously, before being shaken off by his twin.

"Bloody marvellous to make your acquaintance, old boy!" Fred said with just as much enthusiasm, shaking Neville's hand so hard that the poor boy looked like he was going to loose it.

Neville shot a panicked look over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, grins plastered over their faces. For a fleeting moment, the thought that maybe he'd made a mistake in leaving his original compartment flashed through Neville's head, but then the twins let go.

"Love to stay and chat." Fred said, standing up.

"But we have a date with a very interesting looking giant tarantula."

"Toodle-pip!" they said together, before sliding out of the compartment.

The sound of the compartment door snapping shut broke the silence that had descended with their leaving.

"Mad..." Harry said under his breath, "Completely bonkers."

Ron snorted. "Wait until you meet my other brothers. One of they breaks curses for a living, and the other tries to train Dragons to not eat people."

Harry threw Ron an incredulous look. "And don't tell me, you want to be a stunt-flyer when your older?"

"Nope," Ron said smugly, "Keeper for the Cannons."

Harry almost spat out his pumpkin juice. "The _Cannons_?! Why would you want to play for them?"

Ron's eyes narrowed dangerously, "They're the best team in the league... they're just... going through a drought."

This time, Harry did laugh. "They've been bottom of the league for three seasons running! That's some drought."

"Oh yeah? Who do you support then?"

"The Falcons."

"But their _Cornish_!"

"Rather them than support the Tornados!"

A quiet voice floated over from the other side of the compartment. "Er... I support the Tornados..."

Harry and Ron blinked at him.

"You're Welsh, Neville?" Harry said eventually. The boy shook his head.

"I'm not, but Gran is, so I grew up there.

Harry shrugged, "I suppose that's okay then."

Then the argument started anew. Cannons vs. the Falcons.

Neville stayed quiet for the most part, adding a comment every now and again when one of the other boys asked him something. However, this was fine by him. For so long, he'd been worried about coming to Hogwarts, simply because he thought people would stare at him all the time. It was... a relief to find that two boys could hold an argument over Quidditch with him in the room. It was almost as if they didn't care who he was, or what he'd done.

Neville found that he liked it like that.

--

The daylight slowly faded with the argument, the boys agreeing to settle their differences until the two teams played each other in the league, both boys confident that the other would be trounced. Instead, they went back to playing exploding snap and eating their pasties and chocolate frogs, stocking up when the trolley lady trundled past a second time.

It was completely dark by the time Ron started talking about his life at home.

"...it's completely unfair that my brother Percy gets an owl just because he got a prefect badge. It's my first year, and what do it get? Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He reached into one of the pockets of his trousers (how anything that large could fit in there was lost on Harry) and withdrew a rather tattered looking rat. Instantly, the voices in the back of Harry's mind started screaming at him that this was something evil, something dangerous, something not to be trusted.

Something of that must have shown on his face too, because Ron sighed and said, "Yeh, a mess, isn't he?"

Taking out his wand, Ron prodded the sleeping rodent in the side, to no great effect.

"Completely useless. Just sleeps all day. The most exciting thing about him is that he's got a toe missing," he pointed it out with the tip of his wand, "and even that isn't a good thing."

Harry seethed darkly as he stared at the rat. He didn't understand why, but the urge to take his wand out and blow the thing to smithereens right there and then was stronger than he'd ever felt before. Even worse than that time a gnome had bit him on the toe last summer. That gnome had regretted ever touching Harry Potter.

Before he could act, Neville had started talking.

"Gran got me a toad. He doesn't do much except..." suddenly, his eyes bulged, "Oh Merlin! Trevor!"

Harry frowned, his mood forgotten. "What's up, Neville?"

"I've left Trevor in the other compartment!" He made a motion to get up, but Harry pushed him back down with his hand.

"Don't worry about it, me and Ron'll get him for you. No need to let the screaming girls where you are again."

Neville thought about it for a second, before deciding that Harry was right.

"He's about this big, and...er...green." he said, indicating with his hands. "He likes to run away though – he could be anywhere by now."

Ron and Harry left Neville in the compartment with the instruction to re-cover himself with the invisibility cloak until they got back, just in case. They reached Neville's original compartment in no time, the traffic in the corridor much lighter than it had been, and set about searching.

Five minutes later, they weren't having much luck.

"I've found a Chocolate Frog card, but no toad..." Ron said, his head stuffed under one of the benches.

"Tell you what," Harry said, giving up searching the luggage rack for the third time, "He said it likes to run away. Why don't we search in the other compartments?"

Ron grunted his approval from his position on the floor, "Anything's better than this."

The pair went back into the corridor and then split up, Ron searching the compartments to the left, Harry the right.

Harry's first compartment was filled with a load of 5th year Slytherins, who weren't very happy to see a snotty-nosed first year, but divulged the fact that _if_ they'd seen a toad, they would have squashed it by now. Harry scrunched up his nose at the idea and left as fast as he could.

It was a similar story in the next two compartments (although they were all much nicer about it) and Harry was beginning to loose hope by the time he got to the end of the carriage.

Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked once before sticking his head through the door to the last compartment.

"Sorry to bother you," he started, before realising who he was speaking to. "Oh, hi there, Hannah."

The compartment was taken up exclusively by first years, most of them now wearing their grey Hogwarts robes. Hannah Abbott was one of these robed students, sat between a bored-looking Ernie and a girl with very bushy brown hair.

Harry could have sworn that he'd met her before.

"Harry!" Hannah said, waving him into the compartment. Harry took the only free seat, next to a black boy wearing a Muggle football shirt. "Everyone, this is Harry. He lives in the same village as my grandmother, so we used to play together sometimes when we were kids."

Harry nervously waved at the students around him. "Hi..." he said. "Listen, Hannah. Have you seen a toad anywhere around here?"

The girl with bushy hair perked up. "Have you lost one?" she said. Hannah shook her head.

"No. Harry doesn't have a toad, do you, Harry?"

Harry screwed up his nose at the thought. "Nope. Just Hedwig – my owl," he added, for clarification purposes. "The toad is Nev...er... a friends. He accidentally left it in his carriage when he joined us in ours, and now it's run away."

"Well, that's not very cleaver, is it?" the bushy haired girl said, "he obviously doesn't take very good care of it if he leaves it lying around like that."

Harry frowned. Despite the feeling that told him that he was _supposed _to like this girl, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it at that moment. His comment back to her was lost, however, when the boy next to him spoke up.

"We haven't seen anything in here, but would you like some help looking?" he said, "I'm Dean, by the way." he stuck out his hand.

Harry took it, smiling warmly.

"That would be great. Ron and me must have searched the whole car by now, but we can't seem to find Trevor anywhere."

"What does it look like?"

"Er... big and... er... green..."

"So basically, it looks like a toad." the bushy haired girl said. Despite the tone of her voice, Harry couldn't fault her argument.

"Who looks like a toad?" a rude voice said from the doorway, which Harry had foolishly forgotten to close. "Potter? Yeh, I'd agree with that."

"Go eat slugs, Malfoy." Harry said, turning to face the boy.

He was already wearing his Hogwarts robes, as were the two large boys that stood behind him. He'd only met the pair once before, but it was enough for him to know that Crabbe and Goyle weren't the nicest of people, nor the smartest.

"Oh, that stings, Potter. Did you come up with that all by yourself?"

"What d'you want, Malfoy?" Harry could feel a burning sensation gathering in the back of his mind, and it was all he could do not to curse the boy where he stood. Uncle Sirius had told him a few good ones that he was dying to try out.

"Don't worry, I'm not interested in keeping you for long. I'm looking for Longbottom. I hear he's sitting somewhere in this carriage."

"Sorry," Harry said, his eyes hard, "Haven't seen him."

Draco scoffed, "Glad to hear it. Wouldn't want you blood-traitors to rub off on him, now would we?"

With that he turned on the spot, his robes swirling around him imperiously, and strode down the corridor. Crabbe and Goyle sneered at the people in the compartment before following their master.

"Pleasant chap..." Ernie said sarcastically.

Harry couldn't help but agree.

--

Despite the rather large search party that had formed as a result of Harry's meeting, Trevor the toad was still nowhere to be found, and so, after thanking Hannah and her friends for their help, it was a very dejected and frustrated Ron and Harry that trudged back into the compartment.

Harry shut the door heavily, before collapsing into the seat next to where Neville was sitting.

"Sorry, Neville. We looked everywhere..."

"From what I can tell, we had half the year searching." Ron said, rubbing his head tiredly. "Where you found all those people, Harry, I'll never know."

"Ahh," countered the raven haired boy, "It's not what you know, it's _who_ you know." Ron shot him a confused look, "Don't worry – Muggle saying."

"But anyway," continued Ron, "Sorry, Neville. I'm afraid Trevor is lost."

"That's okay." said Neville happily as he removed the cloak, "Cos' I found him."

Harry blinked as he watched Neville untangle himself from the last of the cloak. There, sitting in Neville's lap, was a very large toad. He could only assume that it was Trevor.

"Wha... How?" Ron said intelligently, "Where did you find him?"

Neville shrugged, "He was under your seat. Must have hopped in when no one was looking."

Ron shook his head. "I hate bloody toads..."

--

The rest of the trip passed without incident, and soon the boys felt the train decrease in speed. Harry and Ron decided it was time to put on their robes, and Neville ducked out momentarily to grab his own set.

"Have to show my face sometime." he'd said when Harry had offered to go get them for him, and Harry could see his point.

They chatted quietly for the last few minutes, a growing nervousness descending on them all as a voice sounded throughout the train:

"_We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately._"

Conversation stopped as the trio crammed their faces up against the window to watch as the train station came into view.

"Well," said Neville when the train finally came to a stop, "here goes nothing."

The trio made their way out onto the dark platform where students seemed to be everywhere. More than once Harry lost sight of Ron's bright orange hair, but luckily it was easy target to reacquisition, even in the darkness.

Just as Harry was thinking of asking someone what was happening, he caught sight of the large hulking form of Hagrid, lit by what looked to be an entire Victorian street lamp hung from his hand.

"Firs'-years!" he yelled, swigging the lamp around dangerously above his charges' heads. Harry saw a few of them duck. "Firs'-years, over here!"

They made their way over, Hagrid waving jovially when he spotted them, "Hi there, Nev'." he said happily. "We all 'ere, then? Any more Firs'-years? Right, follow me then!"

The half giant turned and strode down a steep narrow path that was even darker than the station, and with Hagrid's great bulk blocking most of the light from his lamp, the first years had to make do stumbling and sliding down the slope. Most did so without incident, but Harry saw Neville slip once or twice, as well as a blond girl towards the front.

"Keep up, now." Hagrid said over his shoulder without looking back, "Almos' there!"

Harry thought that if they had to keep up this pace, there might not be as many students make it to the castle as left for it, as another student's foot slipped from underneath them somewhere to his right. He hoped it was Malfoy.

The decent was deemed worth it by all, however, when they came to the bottom and stood at the edge of a very wide dark lake. For as they looked out over it, there, sitting atop a small mountain, were the spires and battlements of Hogwarts castle.

Hagrid allowed the students to gawk up at if for a small while, before encouraging them to pile into the small rowing boats that sat at the edge of the lake.

"Tha's righ', no more'n four to a boat remember!" he pointed to one particular boat, "How many d'yeh have in there...3...4...5... No, tha's too many. One of yeh's gunna have ter find another boat."

Harry, Neville and Ron found an unoccupied boat, and were quickly followed into it by the bushy haired girl from Hannah's compartment, much to Harry's dismay.

It wasn't that he didn't like her – more that he didn't think she and Ron would mix very well at all.

Once they were all in, Hagrid taking a boat up all by himself, the large man shouted "FORWARD!" and the fleet of little boats set off for the castle as one, led by Hagrid and his lamp.

"Well..." Neville said, exhaling sharply, "No turning back now."


	5. The Sorting Hat

_It's probably wise to mention at this point that much of the story from this point is based directly off the original 1st edition (uncorrected) British text, and that I will be using that as a guide. Any corrections made by Ms. Rowling since 1997 will therefore be disregarded, unless I can remember them._

_Also, that where the text of this story follows extremely closely to the original text, I have tried to not quote directly from the book, and will continue to do so. Nobody wants to be accused of plagiarism after all. Where it has been unavoidable but to quote from the original text, I have a list of all the quotes properly referenced, and if anyone wishes to see it, they just have to ask._

_Anyway, enough of that. I hope you enjoy the story._

_Oh, and **Happy Halloween!**_

* * *

The students found the air turn very cold as they crossed the pitch-black lake, many of them wrapping their new school robes tightly around them for warmth. The temperature and the steam of their breath only seemed to magnify the nervousness that they were all feeling. Even the Boy-Who-Lived looked more than a little peaky.

All except one person.

Harry Potter found that he wasn't nervous at all. He knew he should be, he _had_ been as he stepped off the train, but the closer his little boat glided to the dark foreboding castle, the calmer he seemed to get.

It was the strangest feeling, of which he'd been getting many of in the past few weeks, of familiarity that couldn't possibly have been true. He almost felt as if this place was... _home_.

He shook himself of this thought. It was stupid. He'd never even been to Scotland, let alone ventured into the famous Hogwarts castle. His brain must have simply been getting ahead of itself. This place _would_ feel like home in time, he was sure.

Yes, that must be it.

His musings were broken as he spotted Ron dropping a soggy sandwich into the inky lake waters, watched closely by the bushy-haired girl.

"What _are_ you doing?" she said, tossing her hair back out her face, "Don't you know that littering is bad?"

Ron blinked at her. "I'm paying the Giant Squid for the crossing – I don't want to swim!"

Harry allowed himself a little snort of laughter.

"I think they were pulling your leg, mate." he said, thinking of the Twins. Even in the dim moonlight, it was clear that Ron's ears had turned a slight shade of pink.

"I'm going to kill them..." Ron mumbled.

"It's not as stupid as it sounds," the girl said, earning stares from all the boys present – even Neville. She continued on regardless, apparently not having taken notice. "My family isn't magical at all, so I did _loads_ of research into the wizarding world and I found loads of things that most non-magical – err – '_muggles_' would find strange, like the way that dragons are real, or that the Eiffel tower is actually a wizarding monument to the defeat of the giantess Fiwrenre." she said all this in one breath, and although she didn't seem affected by it, Harry unconsciously took in a breath in for her.

"And that's nothing on wizarding tradition! Of course, the wizarding world doesn't have bank holidays, but every second monday in a month is usually skipped by the majority of the wizarding population just because they saw the muggles doing it, and they thought it would be fun!"

"So," she said in conclusion, "It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if there was some toll to pay for crossing the lake."

All three boys were still starting at her, as were a number in the boats surrounding them – her voice had been the only sound in the darkness.

"Who _are_ you?" Ron asked, looking at her with a mix of fear and respect.

The girl brushed a strand of frizzy hair out of her face. "Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Ron Weasley," the redhead replied numbly. "This is Harry and Neville." he said, indicating the other boys with a sweep of his hand.

"I know," Hermione Granger said, nodding at Harry, "We met on the train." she turned to look at the toad in Neville's hands, "And you'll be the boy with the toad. Neville, was it?"

"Neville Longbottom." he replied.

Hermione's eyes opened wide. "You're _the_ Neville Longbottom? I've read all about you, of course, it's all very interesting. Is it true that nobody knows how you survived? Does it hurt at all, the scar?"

Neville was a little taken aback, and blubbered something unintelligible in response.

"Sometimes it does," Harry replied automatically, "but only when he feels especially strong emotions."

Neville shot Harry a very shocked look, but Hermione and Ron seemed to accept the explanation. Only, they all thought he was talking about Neville, when Harry knew the 'he' he'd been talking about was someone totally different.

What was more disturbing was that Harry knew it was absolutely true, even if Neville didn't – yet.

Harry shivered, putting it out of his mind.

An uneasy silence settled over the boat as it crossed the last few meters of water, mainly nervousness from three of the party, but Harry could also sense a fair deal of tension flowing off Neville after his last comment. Harry was all to happy to finally reach the other shore, because he could then put some distance between him and the boy.

Harry wasn't sure if Neville might start asking questions of his own. Questions that Harry knew he couldn't answer.

Hagrid's great lamp guided them up a set of stone stairs that led to a large set of oak doors at what Harry imagined was the 'front' of the castle. Taller than Hagrid, the double door was truly of massive scale, and Harry could tell that it had originally been designed with defence in mind.

He absently wondered if it had ever been tested.

Hagrid's massive fists shook Harry out of his thoughts as the half giant rapped them on the wooden structure. The sound echoed around the area, before bleeding into the night. Harry looked over his shoulder to peer out over the grounds.

Even by the moonlight, he could see they were truly massive. The Great Lake they had just crossed created just one part of it's boundary. Far to the south, a dark forest stretched as far as the eye could see, and over to one side the tops of the Quidditch stadium could be seen peaking over the crest of a slight rise in the grassy plains that the grounds were primarily made up of.

His eyes stuck on the Quidditch pitch, and he found himself wishing that first years were allowed bring their own brooms. He didn't know how he'd survive the year without having a fly.

Suddenly, the massive doors creaked open to reveal a tall black haired woman with a stern face. She looked over the group of huddling first years once before nodding at Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." she said, turning to face the students. Hagrid nodded and shuffled out of sight, taking his great lamp with him and leaving the first years bathed in simple moonlight.

"I am Professor McGonagall, the deputy Headmistress." The woman smiled once, briefly. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

--

They were ushered inside the castle and brought to a halt outside yet another huge door, this one apparently the entrance to the Great Hall. McGonagall launched into an explanation of the Sorting ceremony, the four houses, the points system and finally what would happen if they broke the rules. With this warning still ringing in their ears, she told them to wait where they were and 'smart up'. She'd call for them when they were needed.

Harry didn't mind waiting, however, as he was craning his neck to look up the stairwell where the staircases were currently rearranging himself.

"Cool." he said softly to himself. Beside him, Hannah nervously followed his gaze. She gulped once, before turning to Harry.

"Aren't you nervous?" she said. Harry noticed that she looked more than a little frightened, her arms wrapped tightly around her sides.

He shook his head. "Not really." he looked back up to find that the staircases were silent once again. "I don't know how to explain it. I've just got this feeling that everything will turn out the way is should."

He gave her a small smile, "After all, the Sorting Hat is never wrong."

The students stood in silence as they waited, except for Hermione Granger, who was talking a mile-a-minute about all the spells she's read about. A few, mostly Muggle-born, made shocked gasps when a group of Hogwarts ghosts glided through over their heads. A few noticed them and gave encouraging waves, but most, including a rather disturbing man that appeared to still be covered in ghostly blood, ignored them and glided silently through the door into the Great Hall.

Harry immediately thought of a Muggle movie his mother had shown him when he was little – Casper the Friendly Ghost – and absently wondered exactly how friendly ghosts were in real life. He supposed he was about to find out.

A brief moment later, Professor McGonagall was back and telling them to pair up and stand in line. Hannah quickly grabbed Harry's hand, and they got into line. Harry felt a little silly, holding hands with a _girl_, but he didn't object. The poor girl looked terrified.

McGonagall turned on her heel and opened both doors wide with a flick of her wand, revealing the magnificence of the Great Hall before them. She moved to stroll down the central isle, and the first years shuffled closely after her.

Harry couldn't help but stare around at the place, even Hannah had seemingly temporarily forgotten her fear in order to look around. Candles floated unaided above the tables, casting a welcoming yellow-orange glow about the entire cavernous space. The tables themselves were as long as the hall, and upon them lay glittering golden plates and cutlery. Harry couldn't help but notice that every head in the hall was turned to peer curiously at them, and for the first time he felt a flicker of nervousness, but it was all forgotten when he looked up to the ceiling.

If there was a ceiling at all, that was. Faint outlines of the rafters could be seen through the illusion, but if you didn't look very hard, it was easy to kid yourself into believing that the builders had forgotten all about the roof, leaving the Great Hall open to the heavens. He smiled as he spotted the comforting presence of the constellation Draco stalking the sky directly above them.

McGonagall lined them all up along the Head table, and Harry found those butterflies returning when faced with the entire student population. There were more students that he thought there would be, all staring up at him and the other first years around him. Many were laughing and pointing, guessing as to which house each child would go before the Sorting, others -mainly the upper years- were only paying a vague interest in proceedings, whilst some were staring intently at someone in the line somewhere to Harry's left. Harry was silently glad that nobody was paying him that much interest.

McGonagall placed a stool and a raggedy old wizards hat in front of the first years and explained what they were to do during the sorting. Then started reading off names.

Hannah had been the first student up. Harry suddenly realised why she was so nervous. Whist he, being a Potter, could almost guarantee to have a few people ahead of him, she, being an Abbot would have a very high chance of being first.

Actually, scrap all that 'very high chance' crap. She '_was_' first, and that meant she couldn't watch what happened to the other students before doing it herself. She'd have to go into it blind.

His heart went out to her as her small form stumbled over to the stool. She fumbled with the hat for a second, before her head disappeared into it. Then there was a pause.

Harry couldn't help but wonder: What was happening? Did the hat read your mind? Did it look at all your thoughts, both dark and good? Did it look into your soul?

As he thought these things, he found himself staring intently at the hat, as if trying to seconds guess it.

_Hufflepuff!_ Something inside him shouted, and for some reason, he believed it. Seconds later, the hat declared it's decision.

"Hufflepuff!" it roared out the great tear in it's fabric.

Harry frowned. Had that been coincidence? Most probably. He'd known Hannah a long time, since they were both very little, and it seemed only right that he be able to predict her house.

Yes, that must have been it.

However, as the sorting continued, it became more and more apparent that this assessment of the situation was somewhat flawed.

It started with the second girl – Susan Bones. She, too, was a childhood friend of Harry's -her aunt worked closely with his father- so it was perhaps unsurprising that he was able to guess a full three seconds before the Hat said anything that she'd be with Hannah in Hufflepuff.

Then came Terry Boot – a person Harry had never met. He looked intelligent, so maybe that's how Harry was able to guess that he should belong in Ravenclaw. Mandy Brocklehurst, too, had a studious look about her and ended up in Ravenclaw, and it was hardly a surprise when sour-faced Millicent Bulstrode became a Slytherin.

Up to this point, Harry could believe that he was just a good judge of character, but as 'Finnigan, Seamus,' became the second Gryffindor, and Hermione Granger stepped up to the stool, he couldn't deny that something else was going on.

For a start, with everything that Hermione had said so far, Harry immediately thought 'Ravenclaw'. Then, and although it had happened with every other person so far, he received a shock when his brain offered up another option.

'_Gryffindor!_' it whispered. And as much as he wanted to argue with it, he knew it was true. It was almost with a resigned sigh that Harry watched this latest prediction come true.

At this point, Harry vowed not to make any more predictions, but that didn't stop his mind from blurting out which house each of the students would be in moments before the Hat would say. Harry even tried closing his eyes, so he couldn't get a visual image of these people, but then it would get even worse as every time Professor McGonagall would read of their name, they would come strolling into his mind – fully formed and wearing their house colours.

It was most disturbing.

It was almost getting to the point where Harry felt like running off the stage, when he suddenly found himself sufficiently distracted.

"Longbottom, Neville." McGonagall called.

Silence descended over the Great Hall, then, as Neville tentatively made his way out to the stool, the whispering started. It wasn't much at first, but by the time Neville sat himself down it was loud enough that McGonagall had to cough loudly in the background in an attempt to keep order.

The Hat took it's time with Neville, which seemed to be one of the topics of conversation amongst the students. Despite McGonagall's attempts, Harry could still hear the whisperings at the closest table to him – the Slytherin table.

"What's taking so long?" one boy with long black hair said, "Surely this is a no-brainer?"

The girl sitting next to him was less sure, "Just because he defeated the Dark Lord doesn't mean he's automatically in Gryffindor! He was just a baby, he probably can't even remember it. For all we know, he could be just as dark and moody as you, Robert!"

"I am not moody!" the boy replied, tossing his hair out of his face in an annoyed fashion, "I'm just a private person."

Across the table, another boy spoke up. "Oh, shut up, both of you! Just imagine though, what if he ended up in Hufflepuff?"

The girl laughed openly, "McGonagall would probably order a re-sorting, but it wouldn't hurt her as much as if he were sorted into Slytherin!"

"Imagine that..."

Harry shook his head. There was no way Neville was going to end up in Slytherin, but Hufflepuff? There was a possibility, he realised, what with his nervousness and insecurities – Neville was a stereotypical 'Puff. Of course, the 'Puffs themselves wouldn't agree with that assessment.

But, as Harry had begun to expect, his brain couldn't keep it's opinions to itself for more than a few seconds, and suddenly he knew _exactly_ where Neville was going.

He even knew which bunk would be his, which confused him slightly, because he had no idea what the inside of the Gryffindor dorms looked like!

"Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted a few moments later, and the room erupted in cheers and boos in equal measure. Somehow the Weasley twins managed to make themselves heard above all of it: their chant of '_We Got Longbottom! We Got Longbottom!_ was heard everywhere in the Great Hall.

Once the poor boy had taken his seat, and the noise died down somewhat, the Sorting continued. A number of names came and went, trotting off to their respective tables where groups of relieved looking first years were slowly gathering. Draco Malfoy's bottom hardly touched the stool, the Hat shouting out his destination before his head even touched the insides of the fabric.

The minutes ticked by and the number of students still standing in line started to dwindle. Harry tried to distract himself from both the wait and his new-found ability by thinking of the last Quidditch match he'd attended. Held on the Dartmoor pitch, the match between the Falcons and the Wasps had been a real southern derby, with the scraps to match. One unlucky Wasps player had to be carried off on a stretcher after two Bludgers had connected with him at the same time, from different directions. Even Harry, who quite enjoyed seeing the opposing side's team hit off their brooms, had winced as the two iron balls had squashed the man's torso. Reports later suggested that he had to re-grow his entire ribcage.

Someone poked him, and Harry came out of his daydream to find half the hall laughing and a very cross McGonagall staring at him. "Potter, Harry!" she called, presumably for the second time. Harry ducked his head and literally ran for the stool. There was a moment when he caught sight of a few people pointing at him, before all he could see and hear was the inside of the old Hat.

Silence.

"Interesting..." the Hat finally said. "Very interesting."

Harry gulped, what was interesting? Was there something wrong with him?

"Oh, not at all." the Hat said, answering the question. "It's just that you seem to know exactly where you belong already."

"I do?" Harry said aloud, confused, and then, just like all the others, it came to him.

"Gryffindor?" he said, a little unsure of himself. Was this normal, for students to pick their own houses?

"It happens, from time-to-time." the Hat replied, "but most those students tend to be Seers. You, however, do not appear to be one."

"I'm not?" Harry said, a little relived but a little disappointed at the same time. It was one of the theories he was working on for how he could have possibly known the student's houses before the Hat had told him. To have that option taken away just made it more of a mystery.

"Indeed, it does." The Hat said, having followed Harry's thought process. "But the extent of your knowledge goes deeper that I think you even realise."

It did?! It was a notion that scared Harry more than he'd ever admit. Foreign knowledge planted somewhere in his head, and he didn't even know about it? What did it mean?

"Hmm, I will think on this. I will send you off to your house now, but do come and visit me in the near future and perhaps I can help you sort out this mess you call a mind."

Harry had just enough time to agree and thank the hat before he heard it shout "GRYFFINDOR!" out to the entire Hall.

Taking the raggedy old Hat off his head, he placed it carefully back on the stool before running off to sit at his new table, his head full of questions.

Surely the Hat must have seen something like it before. His copy of '_Hogwarts, a History_' had said that the Hat once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, meaning it was at least 1,000 years old. It must have seen something similar in all that time.

Surely.

--

The Sorting ended soon afterwards, Gryffindor's ranks swelling by two more as the dark-skinned boy Harry had met on the train jogged over, along with Ron, who's family were seemingly bred specifically for the house. Even their hair was the right colour. Harry had quickly identified both Twins, and also another redhead, the one with the prefect badge, that could only have been their brother.

The feast began in earnest, with the newly christened Gryffindor first years introducing themselves and diving into the food with equal enthusiasm.

"Mam's a witch, but me' Da's a Muggle," the Irish Seamus was saying, "T'was a nasty shock for him when she told him, I can tell yeh!"

"Both my parents are magical," Harry said as he loaded his plate with the largest kipper he could find, "Apparently my name's been down for Hogwarts since before I was born."

"I didn't think they assigned places." the Granger girl interjected, "How could they? I didn't even know I was a witch until I got my letter, so how could they assign _me_ a place?"

Harry shrugged. "Just saying what I've been told."

"Well, it doesn't matter either way," said the red haired prefect who was sitting with them, "All wizarding children in Britain are offered a place at Hogwarts. The magical community is so small that they don't have to bar their doors to anyone."

"That's lucky!" shouted one of the twins from further down the table, "Cos' if they did, a boring fart like you wouldn't even get a look in, Perce!"

A chorus of laughter erupted from the students in and around the twins.

"But seriously," Dean said, tuning out the laughter and turning to Hermione, "You're saying you had _no_ idea that there was anything special about you?"

Hermione's face flushed. "Well, I've always been, you know, smart..."

Ron sorted, "That's no sign of magic. One of our neighbours tried to blast off his shoe laces because he thought it would be easier than untying them – The idiot managed to over-do it and curse his own foot off!"

"What my brother is trying to say, is that one's intelligence has no bearing on their magical ability." Percy the Prefect said, "Although, it _will_ help you put it to the best use."

Ron snorted again, but didn't make any further comment. Harry smiled and turned to look up at the head table. He could easily spot Professor McGonagall sitting next to the very nice-seeming headmaster Dumbledore who'd spoken a few nonsense words before the feast started. To one end of the table, two jolly looking women were chatting happily with the tiny wizard who sat between them, whilst on the other end, a thin man with a strange purple turban was talking in low voices to a larger man with a very prominently hooked nose.

Harry's smile suddenly disappeared when the Professor flicked his eyes in Harry's direction, locking onto him briefly before flicking back to the turbaned wizard. Had it simply been the matter of this meeting of eyes, Harry probably wouldn't have given it a second thought, but it was the look of pure loathing that the Professor shot at him that simply didn't sit right in his mind.

In that split second, he decided that the man didn't like him, and therefore, he didn't like the man.

Harry watched the wizard flick his eyes back over in his direction, and Harry put up his most hard stare in preparation, but the man didn't look at him. Instead, Harry was distracted by a hissing from beside him.

"Are you all right there, Neville?" Percy asked, having also noticed.

"I'm fine." Neville said, rubbing his scar. To Harry's eyes, he looked completely bemused by the whole experience. "Just a headache – probably just tired."

Harry didn't believe that explanation in the slightest, although Percy must have accepted it, as he had already turned back to cutting up his spuds into very neat pieces. Harry kept his eyes on Neville for a few moments longer, but the boy wasn't giving anything up.

Harry turned back to the hook nosed professor, burning the face into his mind. Something inside him simply did not like the man, and for once, he was more than happy to embrace that feeling. Another part of him told him that the man deserved his respect – probably because he was a teacher, but Harry didn't find it too hard to ignore that particular voice. Something of this instinctive hatred must have shown on his face, because Percy suddenly spoke again.

"That's Professor Snape, the Potions professor." the prefect said, looking over his shoulder towards where Harry was staring, "He can be quite biased toward his own house, Slytherin, but he knows his subject. If it wasn't for the fact that he doesn't want to be teaching Potions, he'd be the best teacher in the school."

Hermione, who was sitting next to Percy, snapped her head around. "Why doesn't he want to teach Potions? It sounds fascinating!" This started off a conversation that Harry easily tuned out of.

Instead, he took one more look up at the Potions professor.

He didn't know the reason for this hatred, but for some reason, he found it comforting. Harry smiled a grim smile.

Bring on Potions.


	6. The Tryouts

_Here's a present for all you Quidditch lovers out there._

_Enjoy._

* * *

It was completely dark. Things were bumping roughly past him, but Harry couldn't tell what they were, he could only concentrate on getting through. It was cold, he realised, and he was lost, but if he kept going, he would find a way home. He had to.

A face swam before him.

"Alright there, Harry?" it said. Harry suddenly recognised it as Neville. He appeared somewhat older than the Neville he knew, but in the context of the dream, Harry hardly noticed. He tried to respond to the question, but found himself unable to speak.

"Are you feeling okay?" Neville's face said, turning concerned, "Is it your scar?"

Before Harry could comprehend what the head had said, it started turning in the air, rotating so that Neville's face was lost, but where the back of the boy's head should have been, Harry was horrified to note a second face peering out at him.

The face had no discernible nose, and it's eyes were simple slits in the back of Neville's head. Even if he could have used his voice, Harry would not have been able to cry out – mute with fear as he was. The worst thing, however, was the way the mouth was smiling evilly up at him with recognition...

... and that Harry recognised the face right back.

World spun abruptly, blurring into white, and suddenly Harry felt as if he was falling...

--

"_WAKE UP! YOU'LL BE LATE!_"

Harry groaned as he turned towards the noise, realising that he was in his bed, and that it was morning. He reached out to the alarm clock, a present from his sister, pressing his hand against the enchanted hammer as it continued to scream at him in Elle's voice. It stopped as soon as his fingers made contact with the cool metal surface.

Poking his feet out the side of the curtains that surrounded his bed, Harry sat on it's edge for a second, holding his head.

It throbbed as if he'd just fallen off his broom, again. He tried to think back to it's cause – the dream – however it was fading, and fast. By the time the pain had subsided, all Harry could recall was a vague memory of darkness and cold.

He sighed. The same as always then. He'd had dreams like this for as long as he could remember, and they usually came in bursts, meaning he was going to be in for a rough couple of nights, but he'd never once been able to say what the dreams had been about. All that made them stand out from his more regular dreams was the brief headache and the lingering feeling of cold that accompanied it.

Harry shook his head, shivering as the cool air flooded into his bed space through the open curtain. He glanced at the clock. Good, still an hour before classes. He'd missed breakfast, but that didn't matter.

For some reason, he'd lost his appetite.

After a quick shower, he strolled down to the common room feeling cleaner and much more cheerful. That was, until he caught sight of Ron at one of the tables, an open textbook before him.

"Oh, no!" he said as he flopped into the empty seat opposite the redhead. "I forgot we had Potions first on Fridays..."

Ron looked up at his friend in sympathy. "It won't be as bad this time, I'm sure of it." Harry couldn't help but think that Ron didn't actually think that by the doubtful look on his face.

It was the second week already and Harry had met Professor Snape in his first double-potions class. The professor had taken an immediate dislike to him, and Harry's feelings reciprocated in turn. The man was rude, arrogant, nasty, evil and a few other adjectives that Harry knew his mother wouldn't approve of, but unfortunately it was his classroom, and Harry had quickly learnt that this little piece of information had far-reaching consequences.

For one, Harry couldn't answer any question correctly – no matter how 'correct' his answer actually was. For example, his mother had once taught him all about bezoars, and how they'd save him if he accidentally ate anything uncle Sirius cooked (although, he was sure she'd been joking at the time). She'd also told him that they could be found in one of the cupboards under the stairs.

Apparently, '_In the cupboard under the stairs in my house_' wasn't the correct answer to the question '_Where might you find a bezoar?_', despite the fact that a number of them really could be found there. It caused a titter of laughter to fly across the room, however it was swiftly silenced by an enraged Potions professor.

The class had gone down hill from there on in. They had been put to work preparing a simple wart relieving potion, but Neville, who Harry had been paired with by Snape, kept attempting to drop in the wrong ingredients at the wrong times. He'd even tried putting in powered porcupine needles into the potion while it was still on the fire. Harry didn't know exactly what would happen, but the instructions for this stage of the potion, which were written on the blackboard, stated extremely clearly (in capitals and underlined) to take the potion off the flame before stirring in the white dust.

Harry had been able to catch Neville's hand moments before the addition, and was unnerved to notice that Snape was watching them extremely closely as he pretended to inspect Draco's potion. It was as if he was just waiting for something to go wrong.

It didn't take long before he got his wish. Neville had retreated to the back of the room to fetch some more snake fangs (he'd accidentally coated his original batch in the leftover powdered porcupine quills) when Harry saw a shadow descend on his workspace.

"I thought it was meant to be the colour of Weasley's hair at this stage?" a sneering voice said. Harry looked up from his notes to find a smug looking Draco Malfoy leaning cockily against his desk. Harry glanced at his potion, screwing up his nose when he saw it was more the colour of dirty pond water, rather than the 'bright red' the instructions suggested. Ignoring Draco for a second, Harry consulted his notes.

"I don't understand, we haven't missed anything out..."

"What about dung-beetle pincers?" Draco said helpfully. It took a moment for Harry to realise that he didn't trust the boy, and a few seconds after that he realised why.

"There's nothing in the instructions about dung-beetle pincers." Harry frowned at the boy, who's smile had just widened considerably.

"That's a shame, Potter. 'Cause for some reason, you've added an entire handful." And with that, Draco dropped in one last pincer, before quickly escaping into the sea of simmering potions. Harry instantly realised what had happened, but had no idea how to rescue the ruined potion, and even if he had known, he wouldn't have had time to attempt any such recovery, as Snape appeared at his shoulder almost immediately.

"That is possibly the worst attempt at brewing this potion I've ever seen, Potter." he sneered, taking out his wand and flicking it at the offending liquid. It vanished without a trace. "Pack your things away, and for the remainder of the lesson, you and Longbottom shall be writing me six inches each on how exactly you managed to fail so spectacularly."

After having to explain to a very confused Neville what had happened, the pair managed to completely fail in their assignment, causing Gryffindor to loose five points. This irked Harry even more, as he was absolutely certain that Snape had seen Draco dropping the extra ingredient in, and therefore that the could never have completed the assignment.

"I'm sure you're right." Harry said, bringing his thoughts back to the hear-and-now, and hoping to high heaven that he was right in that assumption.

He was, of course, incorrect. Despite arriving early, Snape deducted five more points for their talking whilst walking through the door to the classroom. Apparently this was unacceptable behaviour, despite the fact that nearly all the Slytherins were chatting noisily whilst they waited for the class to begin. Snape didn't even deduct points when Pansy Parkinson walked in ten minutes after the class had started. He had, however, deducted another point from Gryffindor when Ron protested about this.

By the time the class was over, Gryffindor were 10 points down, 6 of those points going to Harry for apparently being cheeky and disrespectful.

"The bastard." Ron said, as they made their way back through the castle, "Fred and George warned me about him, but they never said he was _that_ unfair!"

"Well, perhaps he wouldn't be so hard on you if you didn't answer back like you do." Hermione Granger said. Ron shot her a very dirty look.

"Snape took more points off Harry, and he hardly said anything!"

Hermione frowned, but didn't comment further. Instead she trotted off down an adjoining corridor, her nose held hauntingly high.

"Where's she off to?" Neville said, coming to stand next to the two boys.

Harry shrugged, "Library." he said simply.

"Is the library that way?" Ron said, his face screwed up in concentration as he attempted to access the mental map of Hogwarts in his mind.

"Sure it is. You take the second staircase after the statue of 'William the Witty', go two floors up, then take the third corridor on your left. You know, the one with the tapestry with Unicorns and Centaurs on. Anyway, it's only a few more corridors after that."

Harry, who had been inspecting a newly formed potion-stain whist he talked, looked up to find both Neville and Ron giving him incredulous looks.

"What? It is, isn't it?"

Ron as the first to let it go. "Wouldn't know, mate. Haven't made it to the library yet." he said, shrugging. This surprised Neville enough for him to switch his gaze from Harry to the redhead, a mixture of disbelief and admiration on his face.

"Come on," Harry said, having seen this, "The tryouts start in five minutes. If you want to judge Gyrffindor's chances of winning the Cup, you're going to want to see it."

Ron and Neville nodded, although the latter didn't seem to enthusiastic about it. The trio quickly made their way out into the bright midday sunshine, making a beeline for the Quidditch stadium where the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts were being held.

They'd had their second flying lesson the day before, and whilst Harry was willing to admit that some of the muggleborns needed it, he was finding it as boring as hell. Ron, too, was starting to get tired of floating around in circles on brooms that constantly attempted to pull to the left. Neville, however, was having a much harder time of it. On the first day he'd managed to break his wrist, and since then he'd not had much enthusiasm for the sport.

Ron and Harry were sure that if the boy caught sight of a Quidditch match, he'd get his enthusiasm right back, hence the tryouts.

Plus, Ron was under the illusion that if the team somehow saw his flying ability, they'd demand he be given a place on the team.

Harry thought the chances of that happening were next to laughable, especially since Ron played Keeper, and Oliver Wood, who happened to be the current captain, already occupied that position.

There was already a gathering of potential team members waiting on the pitch when they arrived, and also a reasonable amount of people in the stands. Apparently they weren't the only ones who wanted to see the tryouts. Harry, Ron and Neville sat right at the front of the elevated stands, leaning over the banister as they waited for the action to begin.

"What positions do your brothers play, again?" asked Neville as the potentials took to the sky and started to do laps. Harry absently watched as a couple of the fliers started jostling for space at the head of the group.

"They're both Beaters, which didn't come as a surprise to mum, seeing as they destroy the house on an hourly basis."

Harry chuckled as a memory of the Burrow floated through his mind, complete with explosion sound effects. Of course, it was a few seconds before he realised that he'd never been to Ron's house, and therefore he shouldn't have such a memory. His laughter abated, but neither of his friends picked up on his worried expression.

Once the recruits were sufficiently warmed up, Wood split them up into their different positions, and put each to work on a series of exercises. Harry noted that nobody was trying out for Keeper, and the only two who apparently wanted to be Beaters were the two red-headed figures, although that might have had something to do with the way the twins were wielding their bats, glaring at all the recruits in challenge.

The Chaser and Seeker positions had a number of applicants, however. According to Fred and George, there were two Chaser places up for grabs, as well as the Seeker position that everyone was talking about.

The Chaser pack took to the air first, splitting into two teams and playing two miniature matches. The twins made it a little more realistic as they started smacking Bludgers into the games. A few people gave up immediately at this, which made Harry and Ron laugh.

The three Seekers, meanwhile, had been set loose to chase down a single Snitch. Harry instantly discounted one of them as the boy looked a little unsteady on his broom, and proceeded to search low to the ground and very slowly. Eventually this worked to his detriment as he found himself with no air to escape into when a trio of Chasers speeded past, one of them clipping the boy on the shoulder. This proved to be enough for him to loose his balance and fall the four foot to the grassy pitch.

The other two Seekers were much better, although that wasn't saying much. They both appeared confident on their brooms as they searched, and at least one of them was agile enough to dodge a Bludger from close range, a present from one of the twins.

The training matches ended soon enough, and the short-listed fliers were drafted into a full-scale match, Wood and the only current Chaser acting as the two Keepers. The twins doubled their efforts, apparently now happy that the people flying weren't going to fall off their brooms if they were hit. This resulted in a number of minor collisions and dropped Quaffles as the more inexperienced Chasers panicked at this increase in Bludger velocity.

Harry had to hand it to the twins. They were good. Not professional standard, as Wood was rumoured to be, but more than enough to prove a formidable obstacle for any school team.

As the game went on, the three Gryffindors sat back and started to cheer as if they were watching a real match, as did the rest of the spectators. Ron started supporting the team attacking left-to-right, so Neville and Harry did the natural thing and supported the opposing team. It was about 30-20 to Ron's team when Neville, who was starting to get a little bored, asked a question.

"Hey, did you guys hear about the break-in at Gringotts?" he said, pausing to cheer halfway through as his and Harry's side scored to draw level.

Ron scoffed. "That's impossible. My brother works for Gringotts, and he says the protections those Goblins put on their vaults are downright dangerous. Anybody would be mad to even try."

"Well, then this guy must have been mad, because they managed to break in and escape again without being caught. They don't have a clue who it was, or how they did it."

An image of a dark formless mist flashed through Harry's mind. He shivered. "What did they steal?"

"Nothing, the newspaper said that the vault had been emptied earlier that day, and get this: it happened while we where there, Harry!"

Harry blinked, "What? You mean the break-in happened when we met you in Diagon Alley during summer? Wouldn't we have noticed if something like that happened?"

"Probably not," Ron said, shaking his head, "The Goblins don't like wizards knowing about what happens in the vaults. If they'd been robbed, they'd probably try and keep it quiet. I'm surprised there was even an article about it. They'd usually try and cover up any story like that."

"Still, just think though," Neville said quietly, leaning in so his words would still be heard over the cheers of the crowd, "we might have been standing feet from the robber!"

Harry gulped and tried not to think about it.

Eventually, this game wrapped up too, Ron's team winning narrowly in a 'golden goal' scenario. This caused the two remaining Seekers to became a little more frantic in their search for the Snitch, the only problem being that the little golden ball hadn't appeared once to either of them. As the Chasers started talking amongst themselves, once again on the ground, Harry couldn't help but groan as the two Seekers once again missed the glittering ball as it floated sedately over the deserted northern section of the stands.

"Yeh, slow, isn't it?" Ron said, his chin resting on his hands as he peered out at the two flyers. "But, unless the Snitch shows itself, it looks like Wood is going to have to just guess which one of them would be better."

Harry huffed, "What d'you mean '_unless the Snitch shows itself_'? It's over there!" he said pointing to the base of the north stands, where the Snitch current floated lazily.

Ron furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes over to where Harry was pointing. "Oh wow, Harry. Nice spot!" He looked over at the two Seekers, who were still none-the-wiser.

"HEY YOU!" Ron shouted as he got to his feet, drawing the attention of the two Seekers, along with the rest of the crowd, "THE SNITCH IS OVER THERE!" He pointed to where Harry had indicated.

Even from this distance, Harry was able to see both Seekers' eyes bulge slightly before the pair flattened themselves on their brooms and sped after the small golden object.

As if sensing that it had been spotted, the ball shot off around the stadium, this time with the eyes of everybody in the stands on it. The two Seekers followed diligently, matched for speed, but every time either of them got within reaching distance, the Snitch would make an abrupt turn that would take it to safety. It was exciting to watch, but eventually everyone in the stands knew that if the Seekers from any of the other houses were on the pitch, the ball would have been caught a long time ago. This worrying performance was ended even more dismally as one of the twins sent a Bludger at the Seekers, forcing them to swerve to avoid being knocked off their brooms. Unfortunately, this caused both Seekers to loose sight of the Snitch.

"We've got no chance..." Ron said miserably as the three made their way off the stands. The Seekers were still up there, but despite Harry pointing out (through Ron) where the Snitch was a further two times, neither seemed up to actually capturing it. Eventually it just became depressing.

"Feel like having a fly?" Harry said, thinking that it always seemed to cheer him up, and that's exactly what he needed right now.

Ron nodded, although Neville's face went slightly pale at the thought. If Ron noticed this reaction, he didn't show it. "Yeh, sounds good. Wait a sec, I'll see if I can get Fred and George to lend us their brooms."

He ran off towards his brothers and Harry turned to the extremely nervous boy-who-lived. "Come on, Nev. I know flying isn't actually a graded subject, but wouldn't you at least like to be comfortable on a broom. It might come in useful one day."

Neville shrugged, "I just don't have the coordination that you and Ron have, I'll never be good at it."

"It's got nothing to do with coordination. If Crabbe and Goyle, two of the least coordinated people we're ever likely to meet, can fly around on broomsticks, then I know you can. It's more about confidence, which is why someone like Granger isn't a comfortable flier either."

Neville shot Harry a small smile, "Well, you and Ron have more confidence than me too, and that's not going to change any time soon either."

"Keep talking like that, and it never will." Harry replied as Ron appeared back on the scene.

"Sorry guys, looks like we'll be using school brooms," he said, holding out three spindly things he'd collected, "but Wood did say we could use the pitch if we wanted to. He's got it booked for another hour, and nobody's got it after that. Oh, and he said we could use once of the spare Quaffles too."

"Perfect." Harry said, grinning.

The trio started with a few easy exercises that Madam Hooch had shown them the day before, for Neville's benefit, but within minutes the Twins and a couple of other people had joined in. Moments later, a spontaneous match had erupted across half the pitch. Neville chose to sit the match out, but Harry was sure he'd seen a relieved look up on his face, and he seemed happy enough to cheer and shout insults at the twins, who were mucking around trying to knock each other off their broomsticks, rather than play the game they'd inadvertently organised.

To Harry, however, it was something else. He found himself zooming around the pitch with ease, deliberately brushing as close as he could past the wrestling twins at every opportunity. It was a kind of freedom he' only ever really experienced during play matches with his dad and uncles (and more recently his little sister), and he relished every moment.

His team picked up on this fact, and Harry was more than happy to take a number of pot shots against Wood, who had taken up his place before the goal hoops. Only one or two went in (usually whilst Wood was being assaulted by members of his own team, who enjoyed seeing him beaten by a first year), but his agility and ease of flight was clear for all to see.

As the hour began to come to a close, the match became dirtier, and instead of Quidditch being played, it was more like an aerial display of cat and mouse as the opposing sides abandoned proper tactics in favour of putting opposing players in headlocks. When it did come time to pack up the ball, half the players didn't even notice, so caught up in the new sport they'd invented.

Harry, being too small and speedy for many people to catch, was one of the few players that was actually able to respond to Wood's call for aid.

"Good game, lads." he said, grinning manically at Angelina Johnson, the only Chaser on his team from last year. She looked very cross at the comment, Harry assumed it was something to do with being called a 'lad', but he was just guessing. "We've all had some fun, but we're loosing the light, so I could do with some help catching that damn Snitch."

Wood's eyes flicked to the two Seekers in annoyance. Seeing as they were now simply talking to each other, high above the stadium, Harry could understand his feelings.

"If anyone sees it, they're to shout out to the rest of us, and hopefully we'll be able to corner it."

The group took to the skies, and Harry flew high above the stadium to inform the two tryout Seekers what was going on. They immediately shot off in opposite directions, apparently now determined to be the ones to catch the Snitch.

Harry couldn't help but sigh and shake his head.

It wasn't like they hadn't been given an opportunity to do just that.

One of the tryout Chasers was the first to spot the Snitch, and she shouted out it's location. Seconds later, nearly everyone in the air shot into the area indicated, causing one of the largest mid-air pileups in Hogwarts' history. Three people fell off their brooms, resulting in a broken arm and two dislocated fingers. Despite this effort, the Snitch escaped.

"Let's not do that again." Wood had said, somewhat shaken by the incident. "Just the tryout Seekers are to catch the Snitch. Understood?"

The Snitch was spotted a few more times, with limited results. One of the tryout Seekers almost caught it, but, as before, it changed direction at the last moment, and the boy wasn't fast enough to stay with it.

By the fifth failure, Harry was getting seriously impatient.

"Next time we spot it, I'm going for it." he told Ron, as they floated above the commentary box.

"Wood might not like that." Ron warned, flicking a worried glance over at the Quidditch captain's reddening face.

"Not if I catch the Snitch." Harry countered.

Ron shrugged and nodded. Then his eyes opened wide. "You better make sure you do then. Quickly, it's OVER THERE!"

Ron had shouted the last two words, but Harry had already gone. He whizzed between the Weasley twins, causing a cry of alarm from the pair, but he managed to avoid contact. Harry absently noted two figures falling into place slightly behind him, but forced them out of his mind as he concentrated on the shimmering golden ball.

It was currently cruising around the very edge of the pitch, about a foot off the floor. Harry mentally calculated that he was about a hundred meters away from it when the thing seemed to spot it's would-be capturers and shot off at right angles to it's original trajectory, speeding straight across the pitch.

Harry rolled and pulled on his stick, fighting with it to turn into the arc that he wanted. The wood shuddered beneath him, but complied, screaming around the corner at top-speed. Levelling out, his toes grazing the grass a mere foot below, Harry flattened himself on the broom, eking out every last ounce of power from the ageing thing.

It seemed to work, and Harry found himself edging ever closer. He was almost in reaching distance when the ball made another right-angle change in direction – this time straight up.

But Harry had been waiting for it. He'd watched the prospective Seekers muck up at this point so often that there was no way he was going to be fooled in the same way. He'd already started pulling up on the stick, and was more than up to the task to shoot directly upwards towards the heavens when the ball went that way. Again, the broom protested, but Harry forced it to follow his lead, and as he levelled off behind the ball at a few hundred feet, Harry found himself only about a meter behind his quarry.

However, the Snitch had one last move to pull, and shot down towards the goalposts at the far end of the stadium. Harry followed, using a modified Sloth Grip Roll to keep his speed as he changed direction. Both he and the Snitch were forced to weave through a field of shouting players – although if they were shouting encouragement or not was hard to tell with the wind whistling in his ears – however, Harry did almost knock one girl off her broom (gender identifiable by the scream).

As the Snitch screamed towards the posts it dived for one particular gap. Harry went to follow it, but something in the back of his mind forced him to study the way ball was moving. Suddenly, Harry realised that it would change direction as soon as it got through. Knowing that he could never possibly change direction that fast, Harry's long-embedded Seeker instincts and experience took over, and he aimed for the other gap between the posts.

It was risky. If the Snitch changed direction in any other way than Harry's brain predicted, he would loose it completely. However, if he was right...

Harry watched with bated breath as time seemed to slow down. The golden ball shot between the posts and then, as Harry predicted, changed direction. To Harry's astonishment, it changed direction towards him, so that as Harry flew through the adjacent gap, all he had to do was reach out and snatch it right out of the air.

As his hand closed around the smooth metallic ball, Harry had never been so glad to have an all-knowing voice in his head.

Then the sound of the real world filtered back in.

"HARRY!" Ron cried as he roared towards his friend, "THAT WAS BLOODY BRILLIANT!"

Harry ducked his head. Not in embarrassment, for some reason he simply felt proud of his accomplishment, but because if he hadn't, Ron would have taken his head clean off at the speed he was coming in at.

"Yeh. Nice one, Potter." a voice said from over his shoulder. Harry turned to find Oliver wood grinning like Christmas had truly come early, before suddenly turning serious – very serious. "Just one question. Can you recreate that in a match?"

Harry blinked. Was he being asked to be on the team? "Err... Maybe... I-I think so..."

"That's good enough for us, Cap'n!" the Weasley twins yelled from somewhere, but Harry wasn't paying attention. His gaze was locked on Wood's face.

Slowly, Wood nodded and his grin returned. "Congratulations, Potter. I'll see you back here for training tomorrow then?"

Harry's eyes bulged. "Y-yes, sir!"

"Can I ask one favour, Potter?" said a female voice, who's owner glided slowly into view from behind Wood. It was Angelina, and she had a small cut on her forehead. Harry suddenly realised it was her that had screamed as he flew past. He hadn't realised he'd gotten quite that close. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to kill me again."

Harry grinned. "No problem."


	7. The Defence Professor

Harry Potter was bored.

It was the middle of a double Charms lesson, and Harry was finding it very hard to concentrate. Admittedly, the lessons had become much more interesting since the Professors had decided that their students had mastered the basics, but that had been a week ago now, and the sudden step up in difficulty had lost it's novelty.

If he was quite honest with himself, Harry wished it would get harder again. Looking around the classroom, however, he severely doubted that would happen any time soon.

They were learning about levitating charms today, and each student had been given a feather to practice with. Harry stared at his as it lay, quite limply, on his desk before him.

It wasn't that the charm hadn't been difficult to cast initially. Hermione Granger had been the one to receive points for being the first to actually preform the charm correctly, as per usual, but Harry had been close behind her.

Also, 'as per usual'.

See, the problem wasn't that he didn't enjoy the work. He did, especially when it was new and challenging. The problem was that it always seemed to come naturally to him. All he had to do was concentrate on understanding how it worked for a few minutes, and the solution would pop into his head, fully formed. It was as if he'd read up on the subject beforehand, like Hermione was prone to do, except, the only reason he'd been in the library recently was to look up a good stinging hex to attack Malfoy with. Strangely, there wasn't a book for that sort of magic, but the Weasley twins had been in there researching something about transfiguring foodstuffs, and were more than happy to oblige.

Harry sighed and flicked his wand at his feather, and sat back to absently watch it rise and fall. So bored was he that he didn't realise he'd just done it wordlessly. Luckily, neither did anyone else.

The minutes ticked by, and soon he was really bored. Without much else to do but practice the same charm over and over, Harry had turned to helping Neville, who he'd been paired with.

"You're wand movement is a little off." he said, absently reaching out and grabbing the feather out of the air as it tried to fly away. That, essentially, was Neville's problem with this spell. He could make it work, but he had no control over where the feather went once it was in the air. It was frustrating to no end. "If you hold it wonky like that, of course the feather is going to wander off. Here, try this." Harry leaned over and subtly altering Neville's grip on his wand, "Now try."

Neville nodded, narrowing his eyes at his newly replaced feather.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he cried, swishing and flicking as he went. The feather shot into the air, coming to an abrupt stop about a meter off the table. Neville and Harry held a collective breath as they watched for the tale-tale signs of the feather slipping to the sides and out of Neville's control.

"Concentrate..." Harry murmured as a loud cry of alarm from Dean caused the feather to wobble in the air. Harry allowed himself a look, and saw that Seamus had managed to set alight not only to his feather, but Dean's tie. The Londoner was not happy about it either.

Smiling, Harry turned back to stare at the feather, and was pleasantly surprised to see it still hovering over Neville's desk. "Good," he said, "Now, bring it back down."

Neville frowned. The few time's he'd managed to get this far, bringing the feather back down (without simply letting it drop under gravity) had proven a feat of concentration too far. Nodding, he started flicking his wand gently back towards the desk.

Harry watched with bated breath as the feather slowly 'wafted' back to the desk, landing soundlessly other than for Neville's loud exhale.

"Very good, Mr Longbottom!" a squeaky but cheerful voice said from over the boy's shoulder. Both Neville and Harry turned to find the tiny Charms Professor smiling widely at the boy-who-lived. "A magnificent display of superior control! Five points to Gryffindor!"

"T-thank you, sir!" Neville spluttered, obviously surprised by the praise. Harry didn't quite understand why: the boy's proficiency with magic had improved considerably in the past weeks, and points like these were becoming more and more common. '_Still_', he considered, as Professor Flitwick flashed them both a bright smile and walked off to help Lavender Brown remove her feather from the chandelier, '_his confidence is increasing. Slowly. Painfully. But it is._'

"Those points should have been yours." Neville said eventually. The words '_painfully slowly_' flashed through Harry's mind.

"Nonsense, Nev." Harry said, waving off the comment, "I wasn't the one controlling the feather. It was all you."

"Yeh, but you told me how to do it. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be as bad as...as bad as..." he paused, looking around the room for a suitable example.

Harry had one lined up for him, "As bad as Ron?" he nodded towards the boy and his partner – Hermione Granger. Harry couldn't help but snigger as he watched the pair squabble ("You're saying it wrong! It's _Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa_, not _Win-GARD-ium Levio-SAR!_"). [1]

"Well, yeh, I suppose..."

Harry smirked. "They're the perfect example. Hermione is easily the smartest witch in our class, but that doesn't mean Ron's suddenly learnt how to preform a levitation charm, despite the fact that she's trying to help him." As if on cue, Ron attempted another swish of his wand, but put too much energy into it and accidentally let go, making it fly across the room and smack a very shocked Ernie McMillan in the forehead. Harry turned and grinned at Neville. "So, you see, mate. I might be nudging you along a little, but you're the one that's learning."

"Hmm." the boy replied, a smirk poorly hidden on his face as he watched Ron apologising to the stunned Hufflepuff. "Perhaps."

--

The class ended without Ron successfully preforming the spell, indeed, only about half the class had managed the feat, causing Flitwick to set them all extra homework:

"Those who can cast the spell are to help those that have yet to. By the time we meet again, I expect every one of you to have cast the levitation charm correctly. You may keep your feathers."

Something about that particular wording didn't sit right with Ron, who's ears were tinged with red as he walked out the Charms classroom.

"It was that Granger's fault that I couldn't cast the spell! As long as I don't have to listen to that girl's voice again, I bet I could learn to levitate a suit of armour in no time."

Harry frowned. "That's a little harsh, don't you think, Ron? She was just trying to help."

"Help?!" Ron scoffed, "If she'd just shut up for five minutes, I could've worked out how to do it myself! But _no_! She just _had_ to tell me exactly what I was doing wrong. I mean, it's no wonder nobody likes her! She's a bloody nightmare!"

Something roughly shoved past Harry's shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts, which had been growing steadily darker as Ron continued his tirade. He quickly identified the mane of bushy brown hair.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" Ron replied. Harry was relieved to see his face showed signs of regret. However, it was all ruined with Ron's next comment. "She must've noticed she's got no friends. Hey!"

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry found himself running after the girl. He was vaguely aware of the chaos he was causing in the crowded corridor, but it seemed to pale in comparison to his mission – catch up with Hermione.

The next corridor was much less crowded, and Harry was able to speed up a little, catching sight of Hermione turning the next corridor. She was heading to the main staircase, he realised.

Without thinking about it, Harry dove straight for a tapestry to his right, surprising himself when he didn't crash straight into the wall on the other side. Instead, he found himself in a dark stone passage. It didn't rise or fall, but Harry could tell from the direction it curved that it would end up somewhere near the staircases.

He sprinted down it at full speed, flying out of the tapestry on the other end and sending a very surprised third year Ravenclaw sprawling. Harry shouted an apology over his shoulder, but kept on running to the end of the corridor.

He appeared at the third-floor landing of the main staircases, and a quick look down the wide steps told him that Hermione hadn't beaten him to it either. However, before he had time for this to register, she appeared around another corner, almost running him over in her haste. He only just managed to grab hold of her arm before she swept past him.

"Hermione, wait." she blinked at him, obviously shocked that he'd been waiting for her, but must have ultimately decided it wasn't something important as she shook her arm free of his hand. Harry moved to stand in front of her, blocking her escape route down the stairs. "You shouldn't listen to him, 'Mione. You know what Ron's like when he gets frustrated."

Hermione stared at him, tears still falling down her cheeks, but at least she didn't look like she was about to bolt any more.

"W-what did you call me?" she said. It was Harry's turn to be confused. He could count the amount of times he'd spoken to the girl on his fingers. Admittedly, it was more times than most the rest of the year, but he couldn't ever remember giving her a nickname.

"''Mione'... Isn't that short for Hermione?" Harry said, playing the innocence card.

The girl shrugged, "Sure, I suppose... It's just... no one's ever called me it before." she paused, eyeing him suspiciously, "Why're you being so nice to me?"

Harry didn't quite know what to say to that, but was saved the trouble by the arrival of Ron and Neville.

"Harry! Why'd you run... Oh..." Ron said, coming to an abrupt stop as he spotted the mass of frizzy brown hair. Harry didn't quite understand how the boy hadn't spotted her earlier.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at the voice, took one look at Ron and shot off into a nearby corridor, sobbing. Harry, who was still standing at the top of the stairs, sighed.

"You really upset her, Ron." he said, hoping to appeal to the boy's more sensible side by not shouting the comment like he wanted to.

"Yeh, well... I didn't think she'd hear, did I?" he shrugged, "I didn't deliberately mean to upset her."

"Does that make it any better? You still said it!"

Ron looked down and played with the hem of his sleeve, which was coming apart, but said nothing.

"Whatever," Harry said, throwing Ron a dirty look, "I'm going after her. You coming or not?"

Ron didn't appear to have heard the question, but after a few moments, he walked forward, passing Harry and entering the corridor that Hermione had disappeared into. Sighing, Harry turned to follow, catching Neville's eye. The boy had stood back a little from the conversation, but smiled encouragingly and followed him into the corridor.

--

Three three friends walked down the empty passageways for a number of minutes, before decided that they'd lost Hermione in the maze of hallways that made up the third floor. Even Harry, who very rarely found himself lost in the castle, started to worry that they'd been walking around in circles for the past few minutes.

"This is hopeless," Ron wined as they rounded yet another empty corner. Harry peered suspiciously at a suit of armour, sure that he'd seen that particular dent in the helmet before. "We'll never find her at this rate."

"Perhaps she used a different set of stairs?" Neville suggested, "Didn't you say there were over a hundred of them in the castle, Harry?"

"A hundred and forty two, according to '_Hogwarts: A History_', but there are probably more."

"Yeh," agreed Ron, "Fred and George say that they discover new ones every week, but then again, they also say that the Giant Squid likes to play the fiddle when all the students have gone to bed, so they're not the most reliable of sources."

The trio decided that Hermione had probably gone to lunch, which they were late for already, and headed to where Harry was sure the nearest stairs were. However, before they'd gone two paces, a voice broke the tranquil air of the castle, a very angry voice that Harry didn't think they wanted to meet. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of the two boys beside him and dragged them behind the suit of armour he'd been previously inspecting. Luckily, it was standing in a recess, and therefore hid them quite well from anyone who walked on by.

"Quirrell!" the very angry voice shouted once more. This time, Harry instantly recognised it as belonging to the one Professor he shouldn't be spotted by this close to the forbidden corridor – Professor Snape.

Just as he thought it, the hook nosed man walked into the corridor, stopping right in front of their hiding place. All three students held their breath as Professor Quirrell walked in from the opposite direction, coming to stand before his colleague. If Harry had been paying more attention to the Professors, and less on being invisible, he might have noticed that Quirrell seemed very on-edge, not that this was particularly unusual.

"Severus, w-what can I d-do for you?"

It appeared that Snape didn't buy Quirrell's act of nervousness, as the man's glare didn't abate in the slightest.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Quirrell, but last time I checked, your office was on the _second_ floor. What are you doing up here?"

Quirrell to his credit, didn't flinch, much. "I-I m-m-might ask you the s-same q-question, S-Severus."

Snape scowled. "I, Quirinus, was asked to guard the package from _all_ that might want to steal it. I'm just doing my job."

Harry frowned. What was Snape implying? That Quirrell wanted to steal something? What?

"I-I was asked to p-protect the S-Stone too, Severus!" Quirrell said, growing annoyed for what Harry assumed was the first time ever, because his eyes immediately widened and backed away in fright, as if surprised of his actions. Even Snape looked a little taken aback.

"I am more than aware of Dumbledore's trusting nature, Quirinus." he growled. "Many believe him to be foolish for trusting me, but _I_ am more worried about others in his service that go overlooked because of his say-so." he paused, eyeing up Quirrell's purple turban.

"Tell me, Quirinus, what exactly _did_ you come across in Albania?"

Quirrell appeared to flinch away from the question.

"I-I have p-papers that need t-to be m-m-marked." Quirrell said very suddenly, attempting to step around Snape. However, the larger man moved to block his path. "Please, S-Severus. I-I'm very b-busy."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the man, closing the distance between them so that their noses were practically touching. "If you're so busy, Quirrell, I ask you again, why are you up here?"

When Quirrell didn't answer, Snape stood back and settled a harsh glare on the man. Harry felt himself shiver from it's coldness, and was glad he wasn't standing where Quirrell was.

"Very well, Quirinus. Keep your secrets, but know this: _I'm watching you._"

He said the last three words with so much promise of hurt that beside Harry, Neville flinched at them.

Snape shot one more icy glare at the Defence Professor before stepping around the man and disappearing into the maze of corridors. Quirrell stood where he was for a few moments, silently shaking on the spot, but soon snapped out of it, a hard look forming on his face that was so out of character that Harry almost called out in shock.

Then he too was gone, and all that was left in the corridor were three perplexed first years and a slight odour of onion.

"Blimey," said Ron, walking out of their hiding spot. "What d'you reckon that was all about?"

Harry shook his head. "Snape thinks Quirrell is trying to steal something. But what? And why?!"

"Quirrell is the last person I'd suspect of stealing anything." Neville said, "He has trouble taking points off Hufflepuffs, for heaven's sake! He just doesn't have what it takes."

Harry nodded. "That doesn't change the fact that Snape just accused Quirrell of trying to steal something. Did he say something about a stone?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Yeh! Hey, you don't think..."

Unfortunately, what Ron was about to say was lost in blood-curdling scream that sounded through the corridor. All three boys froze, looked at each other, and then spoke simultaneously.

"_Hermione!_"

Turning on the spot, they took off in the direction of the cry.

They rushed through the passageways with abandon, Neville brushing close enough to a poorly-placed suit of armour that it swayed dangerously on it's pedestal. Harry vaguely recognised that they were running head-long into the forbidden corridor that Dumbledore had warned about at the start of term, but another ear-splitting scream drove all thoughts of stopping from his mind.

The trio came up against a large wooden door, lit only by eerie blue flames sitting in lanterns either side of the door. Quite what possessed Hermione to enter such a foreboding looking place was lost on Harry.

Ron was the first to get there, throwing his weight against the door in an effort to open it. Quite to his surprise, he went flying as he found the door to already be open and quite easy to move. He ended up stumbling into the room, swearing loudly.

"Who charmed that door to be light?!" he ranted.

Harry stepped into the room with Neville behind him, both gasped when the saw what the room contained.

"Err... Ron?"

"No, seriously!" Ron continued, completely oblivious to his friends' distraction and warning. "Somebody could hurt themselves on that! It's a bloody safety hazard!"

"There's another safety hazard in this room, Ron." Harry said softly, backing up against the wall, "And one if it's heads seems very interested in you..."

Ron frowned, "_One_ of it's heads?" he swivelled on the spot, and promptly went white. "Oh, bugger..."

There, before Ron, was the angry-looking head of a Cerberus – a very rare and dangerous magical creature that resembled an over-sized dog, except for the fact that it had three heads.

And one of those heads was slobbering in Ron's direction.

Before Harry knew what he was doing, his wand was in his hand, and he was casting a spell.

"_Impedimenta!_" he cried, just as the head made to take a swipe at Ron with it's gaping jaw. The spell connected with it's eye, and whilst it slowed down the head long enough for Ron to react and scramble out of the way, the effects were temporary at best, and within seconds the other two heads had rounded on Harry.

Backing up against the wall, Harry fired off another impediment jinx, not realising in his panic that no first year should be able to cast that particular spell.

"Hermione!" Ron cried as he got back to his feet, presumably because he'd caught sight of her. Harry would have looked, but he was currently dodging various attempts at his neck by the furthest right of the heads.

"_Rictusempra!_" cried Neville, the tickling charm doing little more than distract the beast for a few seconds, but it was all that Harry needed. As the head that was attacking him turned to look at it's new foe, Harry ducked under it's neck and ran to the other side of the room. The loud growl that followed Harry told him that the thing didn't like the fact that it's quarry had escaped.

However, now that he wasn't about to be snapped in two, Harry was able to take a look around the room. Hermione was curled up defensively against the back wall, looking absolutely petrified. Her eyes were wide with fright, although she didn't appear to be focusing on anything much. Ron was at her side, for all the good it was doing, as she was ignoring him too.

On the other side of the chamber Neville was still firing off spells, using the doorway as cover. As Harry watched the boy-who-lived duck back into the corridor beyond, it struck him quite how brave his friend was. It wasn't just anyone who would deliberately fire off tickling charms at a giant three headed dog for you. Harry made a note to thank him later.

Harry watched as the Cerberus lunged at Neville, the boy ducking back outside the doorway just in time to avoid loosing his head. Worried about his friend, Harry went to fire off a spell of his own when it suddenly occurred to him that the doorway appeared too small for the Cerberus to fit through.

Instantaneously, a plan flickered into existence in his mind.

"Ron!" he called, catching the boy's attention. "Get Hermione up! I'm going to distract the Cerberus, and you need to get her out of here! Once you're through the door, it won't be able to follow you!"

Ron's eyes flicked over to the door, then the Cerberus. He must have come to the same conclusion, because he nodded, stooping down to swing one of Hermione's arms around his neck. She wasn't amazingly responsive, but she allowed herself to be stood.

Good. They were ready.

Harry jogged around to the other side of the chamber, stumbling over the iron pull-ring of a trap door as he went. The noise was enough to remind the Cerberus that there were other people in the room, and the thing turned on the spot, showing that it had the agility of the dog it resembled.

Harry gulped. All the spells he had prepared in his mind to distract the thing died on his lips as the massive canine bounded towards him. In the small space of the chamber, it would reach him in a matter of seconds, but still nothing came to mind other than the need to scream.

"HARRY!"

The shout destroyed the shocked state he'd fallen into, and Harry was able to take control of his body and dive to the side, just as all three of the Cerberus' heads ripped through the air he'd previously occupied.

"_Stupefy!_" he roared automatically from his position on the floor. A bright red beam of light issued from his wand, striking the closest head in the eye. The beast stumbled, and the head fell limp, but the other two barked at him angrily.

Harry gulped and got back to his feet, sprinting towards the doorway as if the very hounds of hell were behind him. Morbidly, in the part of his mind that seemed to always be absurdly calm in theses situations, he realised that in a way, the hounds of hell really were behind him.

'_Lovely_.'

He ducked his head as both Neville and Ron fired spells at the thing that was following him. One of them must have struck their mark, because a loud yelp issued from somewhere behind Harry, and he was very aware of it's proximity. Luckily, in this case, the chamber wasn't very big and Harry was able to throw himself through the doorway in little more than ten paces.

Harry couldn't think of a time when he'd been more happy to slide across a cold, very hard stone floor. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Neville and Ron jump backwards as the Cerberus crashed into the hole that was much too small for it. The world shook, and a loud 'crunch' was heard. Dust fell from nearly every conceivable place in the corridor.

"Let's get out of here..." Ron said, getting back to his feet after the mini-earthquake. Eyeing the Cerberus that was still snarling in their direction, Harry couldn't agree more.

The four students scrambled out of the forbidden corridor, thankfully not meeting any Professors along the way. Once safe, they decided to skip lunch and instead walk slowly back to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was initially supported by both Neville and Ron, but by the time they reached the portrait hole Hermione was walking by herself, although Ron was sticking close to her in case she lost her footing. Either that or through guilt, Harry couldn't be sure which.

"_Dumbledore's Socks_." Harry mumbled to the Fat Lady, and she swung open with a sigh. He went to step through, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Harry, wait."

It was Hermione.

"I-I just want to say..._thanks_ for... you know..." she turned to the other two, "To all of you." she corrected, "Even you, Ron."

The boy looked down and started playing with his sleeve again. "M'sorry," he said quietly, "S'my fault you were there in the first place."

"No, I should never have run down there." Hermione replied, looking cross with herself, "I knew where I was going, you know, but all I could think about was that nobody would be there. If you hadn't found me..."

Silence descended over the group of friends, and not the good kind as they all knew exactly what that particular 'if' implied.

"Let's just say we're all sorry, and leave it at that?" Neville said eventually. Harry was going to ask what exactly Neville had to be sorry for, but one look at the grateful smile on Hermione's face told him to shut up. Instead he nodded, and climbed through the portrait hole and into the chaos that was the Gryffindor common room at midday.

From that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and rescuing a friend from a giant three-headed dog is one of them. [2]

* * *

_Quotes from the book (UK version):  
[1] - PS.10 (pp.127)  
[2] - PS.10 (pp.132)_


	8. The Stone

_This is a repost. For some reason, the system had trouble registering hits to the story. This is an attempted fix. My apologies to anyone who was alerted twice to the posting of Chapter 8._

_Enjoy._

* * *

Harry ducked, the heavy iron Bludger whistling uncomfortably close to his left ear, followed shortly afterwards by the larger and arguably more dangerous red blur that was one of the Weasley twins.

Sensing another blue-grey object streaking towards him, Harry pointed his broom handle at the ground and dived a good thirty foot in a couple of seconds, the handling of his faithful Cleansweep Six coming into its own. The Bludger sailed after him, but was easily intercepted by the second grinning twin, and it careered off to annoy some other unlucky flier.

Harry sighed, a long heavy sound as he zoomed around the back of his own goalposts, watching as Wood made a spectacular save with his left foot.

The match wasn't going well. They were eighty-twenty down, and despite the fact that Lee Jordan kept shouting about Wood playing out of his skin, they were steadily slipping further behind to a Slytherin side that was not only seasoned, but seasoned in winning.

So confident were they, that their Beaters had concentrated almost exclusively on Harry. Being the new-boy on the block, they had deemed him an unknown quantity, and apparently the way to deal with unknown quantities was to pummel them with Bludgers at every opportunity.

What they hadn't counted on was the apparent ease at which Harry was able to avoid the things. To the both the spectators and the increasingly frustrated Slytherin Beaters, it seemed as if Harry had been playing for years, getting out of the path of incoming Bludgers without appearing to try very hard. In many cases, he would quickly duck behind an opposing player and the Bludger would change targets accordingly, in other cases he would simply drop in height or direction at the last minute and the heavy iron ball would scream past, inches from it's intended target.

This concentration on Harry allowed the Gryffindor Chasers almost a free reign, but next to the six times Quidditch Cup Champions, they were being outclassed. Flint, Montague and Pucey simply had too much of a physical advantage over the three Gryffindor Chasers, and the Weasley twins were too busy trying to make sure Harry survived the match to help them out much either. The few times that the Gryffindors had made an effective attack they'd managed to score, but that hadn't happened in a while, and it was looking increasingly likely that it wouldn't happen again.

Harry shot between Montague and Flint, causing the latter to take avoiding action, but grimaced as he watched Pucey intercept a pass between Alicia and Katie. Another Bludger shot past Harry's head, and he quickly changed direction, soaring straight up into the clear blue sky.

That was another thing. It was cold, deathly cold. The lack of cloud cover and any discernible wind meant that there was even a thin sliver of mist hanging over the ice-covered grass, despite the fact that it was almost midday. All this added up to the fact that Harry's fingers were... well he wasn't quite sure, having lost all feeling in them a quarter of an hour ago. His feet were in a similar situation, and although he could still feel his face, just, his glasses were constantly steaming up, which didn't help when the opposition saw you as a moving bullseye.

Having reached the peak of his arcing manoeuvre, Harry looked down at the pitch. All the players except the Slytherin Seeker and Keeper were in the Gryffindor half of the pitch. It looked like Slytherin were on the attack, again, and a cheer from the western end of the stadium, along with Lee Jordan's sultry confirmation, told Harry that they were successful, again.

At ninety-twenty, Harry knew there was no way back for the team. Slytherin were just too good for them. There was only one way they could salvage this match, and strangely, Harry wasn't as worried about it as he'd expected. Before the match, he hadn't stopped thinking about the responsibility the team was placing on his shoulders. But now, floating serenely above the pitch as the two teams prepared to face-off once again, he felt calm, relaxed, even confident.

Harry was in his element, and although he knew he'd never before played a match of this scale, he felt as if he'd done it a hundred times before.

The Snitch was as good as his.

Harry surveyed the pitch below, his eyes pausing in their flight briefly as they caught sight of golden buttons, watches, even earrings (McGonagall was going to kill that girl if she spotted them), but there was no sign of the Snitch. He flicked his gaze over to Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, and was comforted by the fact that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings at all. In fact, he seemed more interested in giving his Captain a congratulatory slap on the back than he was with his job.

Harry cracked a small smile. Perfect.

Not wanting to give his opposite number a reason to pay attention, Harry began a lazy spiralling decent towards the pitch, sweeping the air before him for any sign of the small golden fluttering object that he knew so well. The game had restarted twice by the time Harry's toes skimmed through the pale mist above the grass (it was now one hundred points to thirty, thanks to a spectacular move from Angelina, and another powerful drive by Flint), and he'd seen no signs of the Snitch. Snarling in frustration, Harry flattened himself on his broom and shot at the closest Slytherin player, Adrian Pucey. The large boy's eyes opened in shock, seconds before he fell sideways off his broom.

Harry grinned as Flint started yelling something about 'Blatching', but Hooch hadn't been looking, and immediately put Pucey's fall down to his own incompetence; '_To be quite honest with you, Master Flint, I'm surprised it's taken him this long to fall off.'_

With two Slytherin Chasers distracted, the Gryffindor team used their initiative and sped towards the Slytherin hoops. Montague managed to slow them up a little, but a well aimed Bludger from one of the Weasley twins took him out of the equation by completely unseating him. Three seconds later, and the score was one hundred points to forty.

That's when he spotted it. Skimming through the mist, leaving a dark trail behind it, was the tiny golden ball. A quick look over at Higgs told Harry that his opposite number hadn't seen it yet, but the Slytherin _was_ closer. If Harry could just make his way over to it without the boy noticing...

"Hey! Down there! It's the Snitch!"

The call came from a member of the crowd, and Harry got the urge to curse him where he stood. Instead, however, he flattened himself against his broom and sped off before Higgs worked out where the boy was pointing. It didn't take long, the Slytherin shooting off moments afterwards, but it had been long enough. By the time he'd turned his broom around, Harry was already skimming through the mist, just meters behind the Snitch.

As if it knew it had been spotted, the thing tried to fly off, but Harry was more than ready for the move and he was already turning as the fluttering ball took to the sky. A Bludger flew past, brushing Harry's outstretched arm, but he shrugged off the contact and put on a small spurt of speed that brought him easily into grabbing distance.

A moment or two later, and the southern and eastern stands erupted with noise as Harry's hand was thrust aloft, the glittering silver wings clearly visible as they struggled against his iron grip.

"_Gryffindor Win!"_ shouted the magically enhanced voice of Lee Jordan from the commentary box, _"by a score of one hundred and ninety points to one hundred. Gryffindor Win!"_

As the team gathered around him, Harry couldn't remember a time he'd grinned so much.

Well, perhaps last summer, when Uncle Sirius had managed to super-glue his own fingers together...

--

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Ron yelled ten minutes later, despite the fact that he was standing next to him. "I thought we'd lost for sure."

"Yeh," agreed Seamus Finnigan, "I heard that the Gryffindor team was crap last year, but I didn't think it would be _that_ bad."

A second later, the Irishman found himself face-first in the grass.

"And let that be a warning to you all." said one of the Weasley twins, twirling his Beater's bat threateningly in his right hand.

His twin appeared beside him, looking grim. "Any insubordination will be dealt with swiftly," he grinned evilly, "and painfully."

Beside Harry, Neville gulped audibly.

"Anyway, must dash. We have a party to organise."

They both grinned manically, "And Potter, attendance isn't optional for you."

And then they were gone, lost in the crowd as everybody made their way back up to the castle and out of the cold. Seamus got back to his feet and the group of Gryffindor first years joined in the procession, chatting animatedly about Harry's capture of the Snitch, and when that subject had been done to death, moved onto how many fouls the Slytherins committed that weren't called by Hooch. It was during a heated debate between Dean and Seamus that Hermione caught up with them and pulled Harry, Ron and Neville away from the main group.

"Listen, guys, I've been doing some research into what the stone could be." she whispered as they broke free of the main flow of students, "I mean, there can't be too many stones in existence that require such huge protections."

The four students entered the castle via a side door and appeared in a well-lit corridor not far from Filch's office. Ron sighed.

"Do we really have to do this right now, Hermione? Harry's just helped Gryffindor beat Slytherin for the first time in years! Surely this can wait until _after_ the party?"

Hermione turned on her heel and frowned at Ron. "The party won't start for a good few hours yet, and this is _important_, Ron." She turned to Harry. "Well done, though. You were spectacular."

Before Harry could respond, the girl had started off down the corridor. The three boys looked at each other numbly before following. Hermione led them down a number of corridors before she found an empty classroom that she deemed private enough to have a conversation in.

"Look," she said, once the gang had made themselves comfortable and the door was closed. "This stone is obviously precious, or Professor Dumbledore wouldn't go to all the trouble of protecting it, and Quirrell or Snape, whoever it was – you guys weren't entirely clear on that point – wouldn't be trying to steal it."

"It was Quirrell." said Neville, "If anything, it sounded like Snape was trying to stop him."

Ron looked unconvinced as he plonked himself down on a desk. "I dunno. I wouldn't put it past him to be protecting the stone just so he could steal it for himself, the slimy git."

"That's _Professor_ Snape, Ronald." Hermione said, scowling. "And before we go pointing fingers, surely we should work out what they're meant to be stealing?"

Harry saw Ron go to argue, but cut him off. "Okay, Hermione. So what have you found?"

Hermione rocked forwards on her toes, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Well, actually, I haven't found much. After all, all I've had to go on is the word 'stone', and there are loads of valuable stones that might be worth stealing. The Rosetta Stone, an original Bloodstone of the Vampire nation, the Koh-i-Noor..."

"Kochi-what?!"

"Koh-i-Noor, Ron. It's a very valuable diamond set into the Queen Mother's crown. It's said to place a curse on any and all males that try to possess it, but offer great protection to female owners."

"Which, of course, is why _Snape_ would want to steal it..."

Hermione scowled at Ron, again. "My point is that just the words '_the stone_' is too little to go on. If we're going to figure out what it is they're trying to steal, we need more information."

"Gee... Thanks, Hermione. I'm so glad we had this little chat, I've learnt so much..."

"That's enough, Ron!"

The room went silent, and everyone turned slowly around where they were to stare at the figure of Neville, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. It took a moment for him to realise that everyone was looking at him.

"What?"

Hermione coughed. "Anyway, there's something else I think could help us. Remember that break-in at Gringotts earlier this year?"

Harry nodded, "Me and Nev were there that day, but we never saw anything weird."

"Neville and _I_, Harry. But yes, I've been looking into the details, and the _Daily Prophet_ reported that the vault that was broken into had been emptied the very same day." she paused, possibly for dramatic effect. "What if, whatever was taken from that vault, whatever was almost stolen that day, was the very same thing that Dumbledore's got locked up in that corridor?"

As she said it, something flickered in Harry's brain. A memory of a large man with lots of hair looking very pleased with himself.

_'Official Hogwarts business... Anyway, can' stop! Gotta get this back t' Dumbledore a-s-a-p...'_

"Hagrid..." Harry said under his breath.

"Gazoontite." replied Ron.

"No. _Hagrid!_ Hagrid was there! And he was on 'Official Hogwarts business'." Harry smiled in wonder, "He was so excited about it that he practically told us exactly what he was doing! _He _was the one who emptied the vault! I can't believe I didn't figure this out before!"

"This is all good and well, but it doesn't help us work out what's being protected." Neville said from his position by the door.

"Not necessarily. Harry, Ron, both of you have parents in the Ministry, perhaps over the Christmas break you could probe them for information about the break-in?"

Ron shook his head. "'My folks are going to visit my brother Charlie in Romania, so those Weasleys that are already here are staying at Hogwarts over the holidays."

"You didn't tell me that." Harry said, frowning at his best friend. "You know, you could always come stay at mine for Christmas. Mum would love to have you over. Actually, that invitation extends to everyone here, you'd all be welcome."

Neville flushed red and Hermione beamed. "I'd love to, Harry, but I think Mum and Dad have set their hearts on me coming home this Christmas. I've never been away from home for so long in one go, and I think they're worried I'd forget about them or something."

"Yeh, same here, Harry." said Neville, "I don't think Gran plans on letting me out of her sight for the entire holiday."

Ron, on the other hand, wasn't quite as refined in his answer. "Really?! Cool! Just wait until the twins hear about this!"

"Good, that's settled then." said Hermione crossing her arms authoritatively. "You can both work on getting information out of Harry's parents, together."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other. This might just turn out to be fun.

* * *

It was snowing in Godric's Hollow. The white stuff had started falling a week ago, and despite the fact that, on average, it only snows five days a year in the south west of the UK, it hadn't stopped since. It was causing chaos on the roads, and there were reports on the Muggle news that little old ladies were being trapped in their own houses by the snowfall. Even the Quidditch match between Falmouth and Wigtown had been postponed because they couldn't find the moorland pitch.

But of course, when you're eleven, excess snow tends not to be a problem.

"Haarrieee, stop it! Muuum! Harry's being horrible again!"

Lily looked up from her cooking preparations and peered out the window to where her children were playing. "Harry! Stop putting snow down your sister's back!"

Back out in the field, Harry pouted and let go of his sister's hood. He was about to argue that he hadn't been doing anything of the sort, when something very cold and very wet hit him in the back of his head. He turned to find Ron standing not far away, a second snowball in his gloved hand and an evil grin on his face.

Despite their very recent conflict, Harry and Elle took one look at each other before reaching down to scoop out their own handfuls of snow.

The Potter-Weasley snowball massacre of 1991 had begun.

Two hours later, three very tired, very wet, but very cheerful children stumbled in the back door to the Potter residence.

"There you are!" said Lily Potter, "I was thinking I was going to have to dig you three out." She paused in her work to wave her wand in their direction. Suddenly all three kids found themselves hit in the face with a towel.

"Aww, Mum..." Harry wined, once he'd untangled himself from the cottonous mass of fluff. "Can't you just charm us dry? Ron says that's what Mrs Weasley does."

Lily grinned, "And with seven children to deal with, I don't blame her. But seeing as there's only three of you, I think I can make sure you dry yourselves off enough not to ruin the furniture." she smiled again as her son muttered something under his breath, "Plus, how will you ever learn to look after yourselves if..."

"...if we get everything done for us. We get it, Mum." Elle grumbled, having heard the phrase repeated often over the course of her life.

"It's good to know you're listening. Now, once you're dry, get those towels up to the laundry basket, and wash your hands. Lunch is almost ready. Harry, you can show Ron what to do."

Harry mumbled something else, but nodded. "Come on," he said, dumping his jacket by the back door and heading towards the hall, "The laundry basket's upstairs."

The three kids made their way to the upstairs bathroom, and after a bit of shoving and water-flicking at the basin, they worked their way back to the kitchen where Lily had laid them out some sandwiches.

"Can we eat in the living room? I want to show Ron how the TV works."

Lily smiled at the confused but excited look on the Weasley boy's face. "Sure, dear. Just make sure you don't get crumbs everywhere, because you know who'll be cleaning it up."

"Yes, Mum." both Harry and Elle said as they led Ron into the Living room.

It was slightly smaller than the kitchen, owing to the fact that it didn't have to accommodate a kitchen table, but that just made it that more cosy. It was stuffed full of sofas and comfy-looking chairs, set against a red and gold colour scheme that wouldn't have looked out of place in the Gryffindor common-room. On the main wall sat the chimney place, whilst the TV and other Muggle contraptions were on the opposite wall – as far away from the very powerful magical transportation portal as possible.

"Oh, cool!" Ron said, instantly spotting the Muggle technology. "Dad's going to be so jealous..."

The next hour basically consisted of Ron channel hopping using the 'Muggle wand', and Harry explaining exactly what the images that it showed were. At one point Ron stumbled upon an American cop program, with lots of car chases, cardboard box pyramids (that needed destroying) and extremely poor marksmanship by both cops and robbers. Harry didn't actually get around to working out what the storyline was, because Ron's endless stream of questions kept him distracted. Even when Harry's Dad arrived home in an explosion of green flame (almost setting the cat on fire in the process), Harry had just enough time to tell his Dad where he might find his mother before he was again bombarded by another question about the 'gun-thingy'.

Of course, that all changed with their second visitor.

"Those Muggle wands are crap!" Ron was saying for the fifth time in as many minutes, "Why don't they just hit each other? It would save a lot of time."

Harry sighed, whilst Elle just laughed behind her hand.

"Because, Mr Weasley, if everyone was shot at the beginning of the program, there wouldn't be much point in watching, would there?"

Both Potters and Weasley turned on the spot. There, smiling serenely down at them, was the larger-than-life figure of Albus Dumbledore. If he hadn't spoken, Harry doubted whether any of them would have even noticed he was there. The thought scared him.

"Harry, Eleanor, I don't suppose you could tell me if your parents are in."

Harry's mouth gaped like a fish, but Elle answered for him. "They're in the kitchen, Mr Dumbledore, sir." she said, without a hint of the awe that had frozen her brother.

"Thank you."

The headmaster headed for the kitchen, and the three kid's attention turned once again to the television, but Harry couldn't help but keep looking over his shoulder to the door that lead to the kitchen. Usually wedged open, it was now closed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important.

Minutes later, and the Headmaster left via the Floo, flashing them a warm smile as he passed.

"Does Dumbledore usually come around your house like that?" Ron asked, staring at the empty grate once the fire had died down.

Elle shrugged. "Not really, but our house is always full of people."

"Yeh," agreed Harry, "It's not unusual for random people we've never met before to come over. Mum likes to do her interviews for the Prophet here, and Dad has loads of work friends..."

"Then there's our Uncles. They're always around."

Ron nodded knowingly. "Sounds like my house, only, all the people in my house are family."

"They you can shout at them. _We _have to be nice to everyone." Elle said, somewhat stroppily.

Ron laughed, "Only stupid people aren't nice to the twins. If they don't like you, _things_ tend to happen to you."

"You obviously don't know Elle very well," Harry said, grinning at his sister. "If she doesn't like someone, _things_ happen to them too..."

Elle grinned mischievously back.

The three quickly got bored of the television, and moved onto telling stories of pranks, usually involving Uncle Sirius or the Weasley twins. When those stories dried up, Ron challenged Harry to a wizard's chess game, which he won quite soundly. He then played Elle and got a surprise when she gave him a run for his money.

When she won their second game, Harry knew he'd never forget the look on Ron's face, especially since his mother had taken a photo of the occasion.

By the evening, Ron had managed to scrape a narrow lead in the number of wins, and they had broken for supper, after which Lily had told them to give the game a miss until the next day. Elle had argued, but the arrival of her Uncles had distracted her enough for all thoughts of the next game to evaporate in a cloud of hugs and laughter.

--

"What d'you reckon Dumbledore wanted?"

It was much later in the day. Indeed, they had been told to go to bed about an hour ago, but neither of the boys had even thought about going to sleep yet. It was a routine that they'd gotten into over the Christmas break. They'd get ordered up to bed, then they'd stay awake and chat about anything and everything for about an hour. The last two nights had been the Quidditch league. Then, after the hour was up, they'd sneak back downstairs to listen in to Harry's parents talk.

Harry shrugged, "I dunno. It must have been an hour by now. You wanna go find out?"

Ron grinned. "Hell yeh!" he jumped off his bed and practically ran to the door. "Come on, Harry!"

"One second." the Potter youth responded, his head deep inside his Hogwarts trunk. A few seconds later, he reappeared, a shiny cloak grasped in his hand.

"Oh, good thinking." Ron said, helping Harry throw the Invisibility Cloak over them both.

Harry shrugged as he slid his wand out of his sleeve. He reached down and tapped first his feet, then Ron's. "S_ilenti!_" he whispered.

"What're you doing?" Ron whispered, following Harry's lead, despite the fact they were still in his room. Harry grinned at him.

"It makes your footsteps silent." he said, jumping up and down on the spot to demonstrate, "Uncle Sirius taught me that one."

Ron grinned right back. "When we get back to Hogwarts, you're teaching me that!"

The pair slipped out of Harry's room and down the hall, pausing at the top of the stairs to listen for anyone moving about below before they attempted to descend.

"Living room." Harry whispered, nodding towards where a chink of light was spilling out into the ground floor hallway. Ron nodded back in a wordless agreement, and they started down the stairs together, carefully missing the steps that creaked.

One on the ground floor, they made their way over to the door, thanking whatever deity that would listen that the door had been left slightly ajar. It was an uncommon mistake by Harry's parents, and he intended to capitalise.

Coming right up against the crack, they were disappointed to find that it was too small for them to slip through, but it did allow them a good view of the room, and they could still hear everything that was said.

As it happens, they had arrived at exactly the right time.

"So, what d'you think about the break-in?" Remus was saying, leaning against the fireplace, glass in hand.

Sirius looked confused, "Break-in? You mean Gringotts? Surely not again!"

"No, no. The same item, but different location." James replied from his place in his favourite chair. He shifted himself in an effort to make himself more comfortable. "For the past few months, the item that was in Vault 713 has been under the protection of Dumbledore and his staff, in Hogwarts."

"In Hogwarts? Are you saying that someone's broken into Hogwarts?!"

James looked uncomfortable at the question and looked to his wife for help.

"At this point, we're unsure. Dumbledore came to see us earlier today and told us what he could..."

"The absolute minimum he deemed it necessary for you to know, you mean." Sirius spat, "Someone manages to break into Hogwarts, but he's still keeping secrets?"

Remus waved his free hand in a placating fashion. "Calm yourself, Sirius. We're not saying anyone's broken into Hogwarts, just that someone breached the wards around the Stone..."

"Remus!"

"Stone?"

The room went silent as everybody looked accusingly at everybody else. James and Lily managed to hold in their annoyance at Remus, but Sirius looked like he wanted to explode.

"What 'Stone'? And why is it that everyone seems to know what's going on, except me?"

James and Lily shared a long-suffering glance at each other, and seemed to come to a mutual decision without the need for words.

"We only found out when Dumbledore came to see us earlier today, same for Remus."

The man nodded slowly, "He came to see me a little after James and Lily." he paused, his gaze flicking over to the couple for a second, before returning to the glass he was slowly turning in his hands. "Apparently he wants our help protecting the Stone."

"Oh, for the love of... _What 'Stone'!?_"

"The Philosopher's Stone, Sirius." James said suddenly, reacting to Sirius' outburst. "Dumbledore is protecting Nicolas Flamel's stone for him."

Silence followed that proclamation. A silence in which everyone in the room could almost hear Sirius' brain working overtime. Eventually, he spoke.

"Someone's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone." he said simply, as if trying out the idea. "Someone's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and Dumbledore's asked you to help protect it."

Silence once again descended, but it didn't last long.

"Why didn't he ask me!?"

James couldn't help but smirk, whilst Remus and Lily shook their heads in disbelief.

"He didn't ask you, Padfoot, because he knows you don't trust him. For that reason alone, he's decided that he can't trust you." Remus said, his expression pleading with Sirius not to explode.

"But, he knows that you'd tell me anyway..."

Remus cut him off, "Then why bother taking the trouble to tell you in the first place?"

Sirius shrugged, followed by another long pause in the talking.

"So, tell me more about this break-in." Sirius said, apparently resigning himself to the fact that he'd burnt those bridges long ago, "Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore hasn't deemed it serious enough to report to the Auror office, or I'd know about it."

"Oh, you know Albus. The last thing he'd do is tell the Ministry what he's up to. The only reason he's told us is because he knows we can't talk, not after everything he's done for us."

Sirius barked a mirthless laugh, "Still holding that over you, is he? It doesn't surprise me."

"You shouldn't be so critical, Sirius. Albus is a good man. A little controlling at times, but as long as any of us have known him, he's hasn't done anything but help us."

Sirius held James' gaze for a couple of seconds. "You're avoiding the question. The break-in?"

Lily sighed and sat on the arm of her husband's chair, "Albus set up a few proximity wards, to alert him in the event of a break-in. On Halloween the same set were breached twice, but there's no way to know who it was. However, we do know that none of the wards around Hogwarts herself were breached."

"But, if you don't think anyone broke into Hogwarts, who is it that breached the wards? Someone inside Hogwarts itself?"

This time, James was the one who answered. "Obviously, he trusts his staff not to steal it. After all, he's asked all of them to provide protection for the stone, but that just leaves the students, and that's just as unlikely. For one thing, they don't even know what's being protected, but more importantly, none of them have the skills required to get past any of the protections."

"Isn't it possible that a student just stumbled through the wards by accident?" Sirius said after a short period of thinking.

Lily grimaced. "Not likely. The first protection is a Cerberus."

"A _Cerberus_!"

"Apart from some of the seventh years, I doubt any student would be up to the task of surviving one of those things. Let alone be willing go back for second crack at it." Lily shivered, "It's part of the reason Albus hasn't gone to the Ministry for help. If they discovered he was keeping a Cerberus in the castle..."

"...his good relationship with Fudge would be down the pan, and the Hogwarts Governors would have him out within hours." Sirius smiled a grim smile, "Lucius has tried with much less to go on."

"That's why he's asked us to help. Three extra defences mean that, even if the unthinkable happens and one of the teachers is the thief, there are barriers that they won't know about." James sighed, "Hopefully it will prove the difference if someone tries to break-in again."

"Let's hope so." Sirius said, looking at his watch and standing up. "I'm glad we had this little chat, but I've got some real work to do tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep."

Remus laughed. "If you got any more beauty sleep you'd wake up as Lockhart, and we find you hard enough to live with already."

The discussion quickly turned into a debate between Sirius and the rest of the room as to how annoying he would be if he acted more like Lockhart. As amusing as it was, Harry nudged Ron back they way they came. Being careful to miss the creaking steps once again, they silently made their way back to Harry's room.

As soon as the door closed, Ron threw off the cloak and turned to face Harry.

"Can you believe what we just heard?!"

Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Hermione's gunna die when she finds out..."

* * *

_I'm not entirely happy about how this chapter turned out, but that's what happens when you get writer's block. Some people deal with it by trying something else for a while, I'm dealing with it by soldiering on. So far, it seems to be slowly working._

_I'd be glad to hear any comments on how to improve this (and any other chapter). I hope you enjoyed it anyway._

_**Happy New Year!**_

_Chris_


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